


Wolf among Wolves

by heavybreathingcat



Series: Wolf among Wolves [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Chronic Illness, Digi-Jacks are OC's, Drug Addiction, Drug induced consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Found Family, Headcanon, Heavy Angst, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sad Murder Dad Trope, Survival Horror, Suspense, Team as Family, Torture, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 251,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavybreathingcat/pseuds/heavybreathingcat
Summary: "If you beat a dog long enough, it goes crazy. Doesn’t matter how good it was before. After that happens, the dog that you knew is never coming back." - Virtue of the viciousBecoming Handsome Jack would drown out the good in any man; Timothy Lawrence was no exception.-OR-Tim saves Angel at the Bunker (unbeknownst to anyone), and they set off to escape Jack’s influence. Featuring; Tim as the #SadMurderDad with an Eridium addiction, Angel as the unstable Siren genius, Felicity as the fiercely loyal AI mum, Skaggy Mc MeatFace and two Digi-Jacks.





	1. The Searing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Sister Whitt - 1994 - 2017](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Sister+Whitt+-+1994+-+2017).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: **Heya guys, please note I've had to add some new tags to this fic! If it puts you off reading further leave a comment and I'll reply with any answers you have (ill then delete the comment so no one is spoiled, but you should receive it in your email inbox!)**
> 
> *********************************************
> 
> This is the first story I've ever written, so 'enjoy' the amateur writing, hoping I can get better along the way :)
> 
> Come Say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Focusing on my fave movie/game trope: Sad murder dad, you know what it is! (Bioshock infinite, Logan, The Last of Us, The Road, The Walking Dead). So this fic will be dealing with VERY heavy dark mature themes, if you didn't enjoy the above pieces of inspiration then I don't think this fic is for you. If you did, then jump on board the angst train cause its a long one. Xxx
> 
> Not beta read! So all mistakes are my own.

* * *

* * *

Timothy's arms raked at the hands fixed upon his throat.  
  
Little good it did.  
  
Flesh fighting against metal was a futile escape plan, and Wilhelm’s iron clad hands only tightened as he struggled. Timothy's chest spasmed as he attempted to draw breath, even as black swamped his vision the cyborg didn't let his grasp falter.  
  
“Calm down. I needed him still and not lookin blue like Tassiter’s balls.”  
  
Wilhelm gave a grunt of acknowledgement before he shifted his grip to Timothy's shoulders. The cyborg's alloy thumbs dug deep into his spine assuring he remained pinned to his knees. His lungs jarred and convulsed as he strived to draw in as much air as possible. Bile stirred in his stomach, and his head span as the oxygen finally reached his lungs. Even if he were to collapse, Wilhelm’s grip would keep him from falling.  
  
“Sir, If this is...absolutely necessary, then I should be the one to do this. If you miss or-” The words of some cowardly fool spoke over Timothy's rasped breathing.  
  
He knew if he moved in the slightest the exertion would cause him to faint. So Timothy kept his head bowed, and the speaker's identity stayed unknown.  
  
“I’m paying you to keep him alive doc and to keep your thoughts to yourself, alright?”  
  
Timothy clenched his eyes shut as Jack’s sharp words pierced his ears. He’d forgotten how close the madman was to him. Jack hovered over him like a beast claiming its kill. No ONE but Jack could touch his precious double.  
  
Grudgingly Timothy pried his eyes open merely to study the brown canvas striped shoes kneeling before him. They were far too casual for any CEO, yellow stripes decorated the sides, and thick laces made them appropriate for a teenager.  
  
Timothy hated those fucking shoes.  
  
A far gentler hand than he expected lifted his chin up and Timothy's dry eyes found their way onto Jack’s masked face.  
  
When Jack summoned him to his office, Timothy had been wearing an exact copy of the same discoloured synthetic flesh. Not long after he arrived, Jack commanded someone to remove it, and Wilhelm did the honours. With one swift and violent tug, the mask had been ripped from the bone. Blood had poured down his face, though it had long since dried, Timothy could still feel the bitter sting from cuts across his face.  
  
Blinking blearily, Timothy looked past Jack over to the carved gold fireplace seething in the corner of his vision. The embellished mantelpiece and flickering flames could’ve signified a romantic sight if not for the violence which regularly occurred before it.  
  
Yellow banners of Jack’s portrait decorated the walls, black marble busts ran the length of the room, and two obnoxious fountains completed the look. Jack’s office was decorated in every way possible to satisfy a man who needed his ego stroked.  
  
Jack growled softly, seemingly annoyed that Timothy's eyes were resting on anything but him. He dug in his fingers into Timothy's cheek and steered him into his line of sight.  
  
“Now you know why I’ve gotta do this champ?” Jack elicited a softer, almost welcoming tone.  
  
Though Timothy did not answer.  Even if he could speak, Jack was proficient at rhetorical questions and feigning sincerity. Timothy’s answer would’ve only fallen on deaf ears.  
  
“I mean, you just haven’t been up to scratch? Holding out on the New Haven job, not downing a single bandit? and let's not forget how you failed to bring in the red-headed bitch.”  
  
Jack slapped an enthusiastic hand on his shoulder before continuing.  
  
“And then you failed to recapture Roland's psycho little brat? Kiddo the list goes on, what's been happening?”  
  
Timothy kept his head bowed, and jaw clenched to bite down a retort.  
  
Yes, it was true that he’d been taking advantage of every opportunity to sabotage Jack’s plans, even if it were in the slightest of ways. Towing the line between annoying Jack with his poor posture to outright disregarding his orders. It started out as some comical act of defiance; Timothy ordered all of the Hyperion's vending machines to be stocked with Jack’s least favourite snacks. Gradually but surely Timothy found his courage and increased the antics in his rebellion. He’d conveniently got ‘knocked out’ on the assault of New Haven so that no blood was spilled on his account. His bravest move to date was letting the little explosive blonde girl get away from a group of bounty hunters he was leading.  
  
Timothy's mistakes were calculated, so the blame always fell on someone else. His guilt from seeing others thrown out of airlocks for his actions was justified by his survival. The programmer struggling with debt may be long gone, but at least he didn't relish in the capture and murder of children.  
  
And now, Jack was foolishly blaming him for all these shortcomings because he wasn’t ‘Jack enough’.  
  
What an idiot.  
  
Timothy's jaw remained snapped shut to prevent himself from smirking at his counterpart.  
  
“Claptraps were more Jack than you!” Jack instantly waved a hand in front of him to dismiss his previous statement. “No wait, I take that back, but you get my point.”  
  
Timothy's eyes darted away from Jack, seeking to look at anything but the mad glint in his eyes.  
  
“Well, anyway I got thinking,” Jack paused and pushed himself up off the floor, “You just haven’t lived as Jack! If you're going to be a badass like me, you’ve got to have the good part of Jack and the bad.”  
  
Timothy’s vision - still swimming with black spots - jerked up, his bicoloured eyes were now glued to Jack’s. His employer took a few long strides over to his equally corrupted female counterpart. Timothy hadn’t forgotten about her, how could he. Nisha’s hat adorning silhouette stood against the fireplace, and a large modified branding iron was twirling in amongst the flames.  
  
“And trust me, you’ve had plenty of the good. Remember when I found you? You sly dog, thinking you could slip one past me. But that's in the past. Look now at the benefits we both reep. The power, and women, the money, a damn fine apartment and constant supply of arsenal, what else could you get from life?” Jack’s voice was packed with mirth and gave no room for Timothy to jump in.  
  
He was not one to celebrate the life Jack had 'given' him. The man had taken away so much. Airlocking allies into space, and the destruction of Felicity, which should've been when he left Jack’s services. A contract (that may as well last a lifetime) bound him to Jack, and something far more insidious than being airlocked awaited him if he left.  
  
“Fffark errhnnyoohhhuu,” Timothy’s words were rasped and pathetic, and his windpipe was one outburst away from collapsing.  
  
He wanted to scream at the maniac in front of him, at all of them. However, even that muffled curse had seared his throat and weakened his spirit.  
  
Jack glanced back over his shoulder and shrug off Timothy's failed insult.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, sport, get it all out of your system. You know cursing is good for pain?  
 They did a study on it all and everything,” Jack rambled on as he collected a pair of thick decorative oven gloves from his desk.  
  
Timothy’s breathing returned to its erratic pace, his heart beating uncontrollably as he watched as Jack shoved each finger into place.  
  
“Anyway, let's get to it.”  
  
Jack rubbed the large mittens together, and out of context, the scene would've been a comical sight. Nisha sauntered over to Jack, iron rod in hand. She whispered something with a smile that only an insane man like Jack could appreciate. He took a firm grasp around her waist before sliding the iron rod out of her clutch.  
  
Jack held the brand up and gave it a quick twirl, as he inspected the curved white hot ‘V’ adored at its end.  
  
“Once you know what I had to go through, what those damn bandit scum did to me! You’ll see.”  
  
Jack paced back over to him, and the glow from the brand left a trail which would be forever grafted into Timothy’s vision.  
  
“Please, Jack, I can be better…” Timothy rasped his plea while struggling one last time to free himself from Wilhems grasp.  
  
“After this, you won’t hesitate to take those bandits down even again. It's for your own good, kiddo.”  
  
“Pleas-”  
  
Jack snapped and spoke over him, “what's the point of wearing the mask if you don't understand why I’ve got wear it."  
  
His eyes narrowed, and his face screwed up in disdain as he stared down at his double.  
  
"I never wanted to do this, what makes you think I'd want to watch that pretty face get mangled again? Hmmm?"  
  
"You... Arsehole" Timothy rasped again. He would never go down quietly.  
  
"Language," Jack hissed through clenched teeth. "Your continued disobedience has forced my hand."  
  
Jack lowered his voice so only Timothy could hear him, "trust me, this is going to hurt me more than you."  
  
Part of Timothy wanted to spit more curses at Jack, yet his teeth were clenched tight as he focused on the incoming agony. The heat from the iron brand was already drawing sweat on his brow, dripping into his eyes and clouding his vision.  
  
“Make sure he doesn't move, I really don’t want to mess this up” Jack warned, and there was a rare and severe note in his voice.  
  
Jack did not want Timothy, his 'investment' ruined.  
  
Wilhelm’s grip moved towards Timothy’s neck, and the cyborg's metal hands dug into his jawline. Timothy's head was locked in place while the white iron rod danced inches from his unmasked face.  
  
“1, 2 and -”  
  
Jack never finished his countdown.  
  
The molten iron was already driven into his face. The brand scorched past his flesh and burned deeper than he could imagine.  
  
Timothy tried to scream, but Wilhelm kept his jaw slammed tight and dug his face further into the searing metal. Jack held the rod firmly in place for far longer than needed; only bone would remain.  
  
Satisfied with the damage Jack peeled the rod away and took part of Timothy's face with it. Finally, he was allowed to release the scream within him.  
  
He roared in agony as his face continued to burn, and throb. Charred pieces of flesh fell into his lap and Timothy could only scratch at the floor to negate the pain away.  
  
He wasn't sure when Wilhelm had released him, but the giant must have, as he now leaned forward on the floor. His face inches from the ground, but unable to rest. Any contact would be too much, this is already too much. He could feel the heat radiating from his face, sweat and blood pooled in his hands which hovered in front of him.  
  
Timothy’s chest gave him further grief as he choked on the blood which had found its way into his lungs. He’d taken out a chunk of his tongue and was now choking on his own goddamn blood. His hands hovered over his face in desperation. He wanted to grasp it and take the pain away.  
  
“See! That's what they did to me,” Jack gushed with a venomous tone. “Now do you understand?”  
  
Timothy fell forward onto his shoulder, as his body went limp and collapsed to the floor.  
  
“I...yes...I understand,” he sobbed as tears trickled from one eye, the other, his green one was charred shut.  
  
“Alrighty then!”  
  
Timothy heard Jack clasp his hands together.  
  
“You're up Doc, get him looking beautiful again… and be careful with him, a substantial investment that one.”  
  
Wilhelm’s cold arms lifted him up with ease and Timothy was taken to a cushioned surface. His eyes were firmly shut yet his mouth gaped open as the blood poured onto the pillow below him.  
  
Damn them all.  
  
The pain was agony, his palms were raw from where his nails had dug into them, pain elsewhere was pain away from the mess that Jack had left on his face. He was less than a year into a lifetime of servitude, and for the second time, his face had been altered to reflect his employer.  
  
Jack wanted Timothy Lawrence to be ‘more Jack,’ a better killer, a more capable hunter, hungrier for violence and intent on claiming power. If Jack wanted this, then he’ll get it.  
  
The doctor wheeled the stretcher down the hall, the yellow banners of Jack's face trailing behind them.  
  
No more Timothy...no...just Lawrence now.  
  
He would be everything Jack wanted and more, and then, in time he’d be ready to take away everything that goddamn monster held dear. Lawrence's hands were still delicately hovering over what was left of his altered face, heat burning of it, as he mused his future. He could already feel his bloodied jaw sticking into the pillow beneath him.  
  
If there was one thing Jack loved more than himself and Vaults, it was his precious Siren. Yes, Lawrence knew about her, months earlier Jack had slipped up and implied her existence. If Jack thought Timothy had forgotten, then he was a greater fool than Tassiter.

  
The plan now?  
  
Find her, and when he was ready, he was going to take her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are so very appreciated! And I will reply to any questions you have. Love hearing your thoughts and theories on the story and key board mashing is VALID. Plus! come Say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Not beta read! So all mistakes are my own.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
> 


	2. Come get Her

The details were vivid and dreams like this were prone to linger. The memory of the brand echoed across his face as Lawrence's mind heaved him back to reality. He didn't jolt awake anymore nor did his heart beat irregularly in despair. No, this dream, or memory was far too frequent and familiar to cause him further grief.

The burns had healed years ago, yet the scars were thick and contorted his face when he showed an ounce of emotion. He stretched out his jaw and twisted his neck to free himself from the stiffness Jack's handi-work had induced. 

Lawrence leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he drew himself up in bed. His long bronze hands ran over his angular face, tracing the metal clips outlining his jawline and brow. Jack would slit a poor man's throat if he knew he'd stopped wearing the mask. 

As promised, in exchange for his devoted servitude Lawrence had been gifted another ‘home.’ It would've been the envy of every employee on Helios and bandit on Pandora if any of them knew it existed. Lawrence shifted to the far side of the king bed, the percale sheets sliding over him as he moved onto the cool, smooth floor. As large and as generous as his home was, he didn’t get a say in the decor. As a result, everything was oversized, polished or marbled and all in black; it reeked of Jack’s ego. 

Lawrence’s long legs paced over to the plush rug in front of the dresser, the numbness in his feet slowly departed as he reached softer and warmer ground.

His pale mask laid disregarded upon yesterday's clothes, amongst what few possessions he had. A few pieces of Eridium, his digi-struct watch, a custom holster, his cloaking device and a small journal.

Lawrence inspected himself in the mirror, repeatedly tracing his hands over his jawline. Cold yet bright bi-coloured eyes frowned back at him. He’d lost his eye, his own eye when Jack scorched his face with the mark of the Vault. It had been the one part of him which hadn't gone under the knife. Timothy Lawrence was born with green eyes, so only one had to be altered to resemble Handsome Jack’s heterochromia. Now it was gone, charred, and replaced with a cybernetic implant. He rubbed his brow feeling the metal grind under his skin, how much of ‘him’ remained?  He did not know.

For over five years he’d woken to the same strange face, and every time it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Deciding to forgo breakfast, Lawrence threw on yesterday's clothes. He was out West, and a clean outfit wasn't necessary when bandits were trying to take your head off. He ran a bony hand through his mousey-brown hair in an attempt to formally shape it. Grey lingered on the edges of his sideburns; Jack would notice in a glance and demand it be dyed (again). 

Except for a few morning echo-comm calls, there were no face-to-face meetings with Jack. Lawrence was stationed in Thousand Cuts as his new job required him to keep track of the defences for The Bunker and more importantly what lay beneath the fortress. 

Lawrence clipped the mask in place and rubbed the synthetic flesh against his face to smooth it out. He was expecting a call from Jack today; otherwise, the mask would remain discarded on the dresser. With the mask on; expressing any emotion was a tough act to pull off, Jack made it look so effortless. 

However, a mask was a handy solution to hide his contempt for his employer and close allies.

He shoved his arms through the holes of his brown leather holster, adjusting it, so it sat comfortably on his shoulders. Digitising a gun from his gear-chip was easy enough. However, Lawrence liked things the old fashion way. It felt more ‘right’ to him to be physically armed at all times, plus who didn’t appreciate the aesthetic?

He opted for leather combat boots, not those thin canvas sneakers his boss still wore. His face skimmed his grey shirt as he pulled overhead, Hyperon yellow stripes panelled down the side. Finally, black military pants, he looked as casual as Jack allowed him to be. He needed gear to fight in if the scenario suddenly arose, not resemble a playboy billionaire. 

However, today’s task was programming, so chances of combat were slim.

He was halfway through coding an update for the torrents outside, their accuracy and reaction time needed to be vastly improved. Like Jack, he was a programmer, although he wasn’t as brilliant as his counterpart Lawrence did know enough Hyperphire to be a lead developer.

Lawrence strode over and push a set of panelled doors outward to reveal a sunlit balcony. Pandora's sun was a stark contrast to the darkness of Helios. The sun would've felt warm, and he was sure there was an actual breeze; however, he was staring at a massive digital screen capturing the filmed view outside. Sunlamps and a small fan simulated the weather, and it was a pretty darn close imitation. Having actual windows on a fortress would've been seen as a slight oversight.

Lawrence’s workstation was within his new ‘home,’ as well as a gym, spa, a massive open plan bedroom that adjoined the living area and kitchen. Walls were apparently an afterthought.

His workstation was a large curved desk with two monitors overlooking the sharp terrain of the (simulated) Highlands. The best part? He was the sole employee inside The Bunker’s defences, and his loft was stationed right above the Siren’s chamber. He was alone, away from Jack and right where he wanted to be. 

He knocked a few keys to wake up the computer from its slumber, last night's work was still open on the desktop. No login required, his lax in security was another one of his small acts of defiance. He dismissed the text editor and opened up the surveillance camera. With a quick browse, he was satisfied that everything was in order. The cameras gave him a full view of every corridor, ledge, balcony, and port of entry around and into The Bunker. His only blindspot was the observation deck and the Sirens chamber, only the real Jack had access to those areas.

Lawrence’s first heard mention of a Siren when Jack was arguing with some glassy-eyed fool of a scientist (before Jack ejected the man into space). The doomed man had explained the Vault needed a charged key, a catalyst, ‘ _ perhaps a Siren?’ _

Finding a Siren was no easy task, as he later found out there were only ever 6 in the whole damn universe at any given time. Jack seethed at this news and had taken it upon himself to destroy the single framed picture on his desk along with his chair, a golden arm, his computer, a dozen books, the scientist neck and the finally the desk itself. 

Lawrence mused at Jacks fits of rage and the lack of clarity they held.  

After running feverish hands through his matted hair, Jack ordered Lawrence to find him a Siren. However, before Lawrence could excuse himself from the broken office, Jack had told him to disregard that order.

So Lawrence built a theory, if Jack didn’t want to pursue a Siren then maybe he already had one? Or knew of one close by? His hypothesis would later be proven correct. 

Lawrence’s rubbed his eyes, trying to remove last night’s weariness. A crooked smile stretched across his face as he prepared his morning brew.  Lawrence - and not Jack - was expecting the Vault Hunters to raid the Bunker any day now. Jack had too much pride to realise everything was compromised. The Vault Hunters had the other doppelganger’s cloaking device, and it wouldn't be long before they drove through their defences, even with his new security adjustments. 

He did not doubt the Vault Hunters success he even welcomed it. It had been a long steady wait for Lawrence, full of violence and disdain. Yet, he was so close. 

He still marvelled at himself for gaining the madman's trust. So much so, that minor disobediences from Lawrence went unnoticed, or if it didn't, it went unpunished.

After the searing, Lawrence had become the best Jack he could be, kill count to show for it. A corrosive sniper was now his weapon of choice. He liked to stay out of the chaos that warfare on Pandora always brought, although that was a choice rarely given to him. 

His most celebrated exploit so far was getting Nisha on his side. The two of them had scores of successful missions under their belts. Their success and Lawrence's apparently new appreciation for violence had stirred something new in Nisha. Lawrence flexed his hands. He knew damn well that Nisha got off on blood, chaos, and Jack. 

Lawrence added enough sugar to his coffee to satisfy a child's appetite and stirred in milk until it was a light beige. Jack had his coffee black; for a very long time, Lawrence had his just the same. However, after the last assassination attempt on his life (which involved poison laced in his black coffee), Jack graciously allowed him to have it however he liked from now on. 

_ What a fucking win. _

So, how do you get a madman's trust? Kill more than him, torture more and manipulate more. He had moments of doubt, where Lawrence thought if he stopped now maybe he could go back to being Timothy. But those moments were fleeting. It wasn’t rational to reflect like that. He couldn’t just call it quits and become a house husband.

Lawrence looked up to follow the flight path or a couple of (simulated) Rakk’s overhead their large wingspans drifted in the sky. A deafening screech fell across the valley as one of them dove down, probably onto some poor sod below.

Now that he’d had become  _ ‘intimate’ _ with Jack, as the masked man had described them, or ‘ _ more Jack than he could hope for _ ’ he’d been granted access to Jack’s Siren. She was quite literally below him, working her magic through Hyperion's interfaces. Lawrence had one set back; Jack forbid spoken conversation with the Siren or any face-to-face contact. Except for general ‘chit chat’ through the Hyperion Network, an allowance to make sure she got everything she needed. 

_ ‘Make sure she’s happy, see that she gets everything she wants,’ _ those were Jack’s parting words to him when he left Helios to move to the Bunker.

Jack's words were idiotic, make her happy? Impossible, the darn Siren was permanently locked away. As for talking with her, he never knew what to say beyond ‘Hi, need anything?’

If the Siren tried to open up or pry anything personal from him, he’d immediately log off. Getting intimate with her wouldn't help his cause. It wasn’t like he could talk openly with her,  _ ‘Hi, how does it feel to work for the universe's greatest decrepit piece of shit? _ ’. That, would not go down well with his employer, Jack was undoubtedly observing all conversations between them.

Lawrence made himself comfortable at his desk, legs propped up on a second leather chair with his coffee in hand. On cue, the chat interface opened up.

_ ‘Good morning, are you enjoying the sunshine? _ \- Angel’  The text digitised across the screen.

_ ‘Yes, is there anything you need? _ \- Anonymous’ 

He tried to keep his responses concise; he didn’t dare run the risk of giving anything personal away. As far as the Siren knew he was no more than a Hyperion security programmer in charge of her safety. He couldn't leave any hints or traces in their conversations for Jack to doubt him.

_ ‘No, I’m fine, thank you for asking,’ _ she replied, a moment of pause before she continued,  _ ‘Jack is certain the defences for the BNK3R will hold. What do you think?’ _

Lawrence’s brow raised and his hands hovered over the keys as he carefully considered his reply. These questions aimed to pry into his views weren’t uncommon, but they were becoming an increasing nuisance. 

_ ‘They will hold’  _ Lawrence typed back before closing the chat window. 

There was one minor mystery that he’d like answered before departing from Jack's service. Why did the Siren agree to work for him? Was her family held hostage, or was she just as war hungry as Jack? The Siren had unleashed enough havoc on Pandora to match his and Jack’s kill count. 

There was nothing in the tone of her voice - or messages - that revealed the answers.

All he knew for sure was that she was Jack's cherished ally and so she had to go.

His echo-comm gave a shrill blare which snapped him out of his thoughts, Jack was calling. Lawrence leaned forward and accepted the call on the device, and the screen lit up with his exact copy sitting at his desk. 

Jack got straight to the point.

“So good work on fast travel port update, babe, but you know, if you're going to litter your work with comments explaining what you coded, you probably did a piss poor job at it.”

Jack wasn’t even looking at the echo-device receiver. Instead, he was typing away on another device.

“I mean, I should just be able to read this, yeah?” He exclaimed pointing a hand at another screen. 

Lawrence mentally rolled his eyes. The way Jack talked you’d think he was a frat boy enjoying his first hand at blow. 

“So...ahhh, fixed that for ya. Like all of it.”

Lawrence picked up a pretzel from the dish at his workstation and threw it at echo-comm hitting Jack’s image on the screen.

“Cut that out Champ!” Jack ridiculed with no actual menace. 

Lawrence delivered a grin with all charm and no warmth, the very look Jack had come to love on his face. He could get away with anything with that look, and if he really needed something then the idle flex of muscle and pouted lips did the trick.

Jack and his narcism was his greatest weakness and Lawrence played with what he had. Hell, the guy was easy to talk too. Wit, banter, and rarely any substance, it wasn’t hard to get into his groove.

Lawrence downed the rest of his coffee before moving the conversation along, “Did you like the space-hurps part?”

“Oh that, that was brilliant!” Jack cheered as he leaned back and slapped a hand down on his lap. 

Every Hyperion employee had enough vaccinations to start a new ecosystem in their lymph nodes. However, that didn't stop Zarpedon infecting half of Helios with it during the Elpis situation five years ago. Despite their best efforts, the virus made its way to Pandora. Hyperion eventually developed a vaccination. However, the only beneficiaries of that were Hyperion employees. 

Lawrence's last update took advantage of that.

Fast travel points reconstructed the body, if it identified an illness, say space-hurps? Well, now only half of that person would be reaching their final destination. Who on Pandora was infested with every known disease to man? Bandits. 

That was just another one of his own fucked up magical ideas that kept Jack happier than a maggot in a dead skag.

“Right, well I want the torrent update by the end of the day.”

“Righteo” Lawrence reluctantly cocked a finger towards the screen, “I’ll be done by midday, then I’m on patrol, gonna test out the new gear on the Brick head’s encampment.”

“Love it,” Jack gave a curt nod, and the echo-comm disconnected the call. 

Lawrence switched off his echo-comm and leaned back into his chair. He reached for his coffee only to realise he’d already finished it. 

These conversations brought him no joy like they once had. Jack had once been the closest thing in his life, but a brand to the face and a dismal to a bunker on hell was enough to stir bitter thoughts in Lawrence's mind. 

He returned to watching Rakks circling some new prey. Any day now the sky would be filled with Buzzards, and the assault against the Bunker would be on. That was the day Lawrence yearned for, the Bunkers defences would fail from the strength of the Vault Hunters, and that would be his chance. 

He was going to kill Jacks Siren. That would set Jack straight, that would make him listen, regret this banishment, regret the brand, the abuse, everything.

_ Come get her Vault Hunters. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing Timothy characterisation for this chapter was my first real challenge. I've prevented the reader from seeing the 5 years of character development that would of have happened since we last saw him in game. Hopefully, I've communicated what he's been through and how he sees the world now.
> 
> Also, SPACE-HURPS.
> 
> Happy to hear your thoughts on it, criticisms, comments are much appreciated :) Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
> 


	3. Kill the Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tagging this with #mutilation #identiyissues

"Dammit!" Jack cursed, his voice was strained and tinged with panic.   
  
A wide grin stretched across Lawrence's unmasked features, it was a beautiful thing to hear Jack in disarray.  
  
"The damn bandit Vault Hunters have breached the security wall!" Jack's voice boomed through both Lawrence's echo and the loft's intercom.  
  
Lawrence figured as much, he'd woken to the sound of blaring alarms and a torrent of bullets. In a frantic mess he tripped from his bed as the sheets refused to let go of his ankles, red lights circled the room as he lifted himself off the floor. He grunted when spared a glance at the wall clock which had revealed a deplorable hour to be awake. His limbs hastily shoved their way into protective gear, as his eyes scoured the room for additional arsenal to attach to his belt and holster.  
  
"The defences will hold," Lawrence called out to his echo-comm.  
  
"They better, or I'll use your goddamn throat to paint the walls."  
  
"Good to know," Lawrence muttered but away from the receiver.   
  
"Get to the observation deck, I'll clear you to enter" Jack demanded, his voice heavy with resentment.  
  
All the comms went silent.  
  
The observation deck and the Siren's chamber remained the only areas off limits to him. He'd previously toyed with the idea of hacking into both of them, although he knew it would've proven futile. Jack could recognise a breach in a heartbeat, and the Siren had more than enough power to ensure he didn't take one step into her chamber.  
  
But that didn't matter anymore, all his perseverance had finally rewarded him. For six months he'd been stashed away at the Bunker, left to rot as Jack continued his work on Helios. Finally, the Vault hunters were coming to do the deed for him.  
  
Lawrence held the last item of ‘clothing' he needed to equip; the mask. His bronze hands turned the thin, pale veil over, eyes studying the imperfections it had taken over the years. Light scratches adored the checks, and a deeper cut was forged across the bridge of the nose. Jack's mask was undoubtedly a sight of perfection as the CEO hadn't been in a brawl for years.  
  
This was it, this was the first day of the rest of his life not as Jack. In a rare moment of 'lost control', Lawrence threw the mask across the room and watched as its rubber features bounced off the wall. He paced over to his workstation, (giving the mask one last kick for old times sake) and woke his computer, only to be bombarded with hundreds of notifications plastered across the screen. With a few commands, they were all dismissed and replaced with the surveillance footage from outside his walls.  
  
The Vault hunters were already face-to-face with the BNK3R, Jack's prized war-craft machine. Fully automated with six torrents and a laser for good measure, regardless of its assault capabilities, the war machine yielded few difficulties for the Vault Hunters. Lawrence observed as the blue-haired Siren held a loader-bot captive, her tattooed arm a blaze in a fiery blue.  
  
The other Vault Hunters worked on taking out his torrents, even with the new modifications he'd installed days ago, the tall blonde in heavy combat gear gave a cheer as the last of them came down.  
  
Lawrence didn't know how the Vault Hunters knew about the Vault key and its location, however, their recent activities were a pretty clear indicator of their intentions. He ran a hand over the back of his neck in an attempt to push out the stiffness that was consuming him. He had zero sympathies for the cloaked Jack doppelganger which the Vault Hunters had previously dispensed from the world.  
  
It didn't take the Vault Hunters long to destroy the BNK3R, their capability in battle could not be underestimated.  
  
A new notification popped up on Lawrence's screen;  
  
ACCESS GRANTED TO OBSERVATION DECK.  
  
Jack's paranoia prevailed, Lawrence had hoped he'd have access to the Siren. He supposed this would do, with the security protocol now overwritten it was time to see this rodeo head on.  
  
He adjusted his hostler, which was more out of habit than necessary before he stalked to the exit of his loft. He took the steps three at a time to reach the hallway below. The observation deck did not fuck around, it was the largest iron cast door Lawrence had ever set eyes on. He moved into a light jog, eager to finally have access to the room beyond the reinforced door. A new, yet delicate husky voice spoke across the intercom, Lawrence was thrown to a halt.  
  
"The key is here," the female voice spoke.  
  
Was the Siren speaking to the Vault Hunters? Lawrence didn't care to find out, his legs pumped into a sprint as the voice continued to chill the hallways.  
  
"But...To truly stop Jack from waking the Warrior, you cannot just steal the Vault Key, you must destroy his catalyst."  
  
A frown was hastily etched across his face. Why would the Siren reveal this to them? She was meant to protect Jacks Vault key and most of all, his secrets.  
  
Lawrence shoved his hand over the scanner and practically knocked his forehead into the door to permit the second scanner to reach his retina. The door opened without dispute. The observation deck was a barren place, empty except for more intercoms, a few surveillance screens and a broad dim window that ran the length of the room.  
  
The siren spoke again.  
  
"You must destroy...me."  
  
"Wait, what?" Lawrence uttered his confusion aloud.  
  
He launched himself towards the window, eyes wide as they spied on the woman below, no, _the_ **_girl_** who hovered below. Large black appendages were connected to her back, and head and silver wings kept her afloat.  
  
Lawrence stepped back from the window, hands gripped tight.  
  
She was young, much younger than he'd ever anticipated, she was still a distance away, so her features were not entirely apparent, but Lawrence could not mistake her light frame than that of a child's.  
  
He unclenched his hands so he could trace them along the window, Lawrence's mind raced.  
  
The Siren wanted the Vault Hunters here?   
  
Something twisted in his gut as he tried to process the situation. Lawrence had been planning this assault for months, detailing any obstacles, the challenges he'd have to face, yet this? This was not what he had anticipated. The Siren had been doing Jack's work for years, probably even longer and now she suddenly wants to change allegiances?  
  
He didn't understand.  
  
"Jack spent years pumping me full of Eridium, using me to charge his Key and manipulate his enemies," the Sirens words continued to haunt him.  
  
Lawrence lent further against the window, his breath drawing up fog onto the fortified glass.  
  
"Destroying the Eridium injectors that keep me... alive... will stop the Key from charging and it will end a lifetime of servitude. Now-"  
  
She gave an echoing wail as she was yanked from the fringe of her room. The thick cords attached to her had bound her in a second chamber, a purple hue lofted in the air.  
  
No, this was not meant to happen...Vault hunters break in, they steal the key, the Siren is encountered, I kill the Siren in amongst the chaos, I flee, and Jack loses.  
  
Lawrence turned his back to the Siren as his hands ran through his hair feverishly only to jerk back around at Jacks enraged voice.  
  
"You get the hell away from MY DAUGHTER!" Jack's voice boomed over the comm-speakers, his face livid on the surveillance screen in front of him.  
  
Lawrence's face creased tight in confusion, "daughter?"  
  
"What the hell are you doing?! ANGEL?!" Jack roared at her defiance.  
  
"Angel?...Daughter?!" Lawrence repeated the words to make sense of it all.  
  
No, that wasn't possible, Jack didn't have a daughter, maybe a few affairs, two wives, but no daughter. Lawrence stumbled as if the ground had been ripped away from him.   
  
He had Jack's trust, Jack confided everything to him, how did he not know this?  
  
For over five years Lawrence had found his courage to be, no...to act as Jack closest companion. He knew his schedules, his enemies, his preferences, his habits, and desires. The man had spilled his fears and dreams of Pandora to him, and Lawrence had reluctantly yet patiently listened to them all.  
  
With Jack, Lawrence's world was calculated and planned, but at this moment he felt vulnerable. What else hadn't Jack told him?  
  
He turned his eyes away from the Siren, he couldn't bear to look at her. Lawrence let out a deep breath that sounded more like a whimper.   
  
_You just lived with the guy, Jack didn’t need to tell you everything._  
  
His breathing turned sharp, no matter how much he heaved it felt like the air was bypassing his lungs entirely.  
  
 _You pretended to be Jack's companion. It wasn't real. It doesn’t matter._  
  
Dark spots began to circle his eyes.  
  
Jack didn't have panic attacks and because of this Lawrence was not allowed to have them, yet here it was. He felt sick, repulsed and the worst part? He felt betrayed.   
  
Lawrence leaned against the window as he slid to the ground, his knees curled upwards, and his head rested in his hands. The faceless conversations with the Siren, her dedication to Jack, and Jack's obsession with her wellbeing. Everything was starting to fall into place, but these answers didn't yield any security for him.  
  
His Echo-comm lit up from Jack, "You get in there and goddamn save her! Dammit! when I get down there, If anything happens to her, ohhhh you don't want to know what I'll do to your corpse."  
  
A few other loud threats of violence bellowed through the Echo-comm, but Lawrence couldn't find the words to respond. Both his long hands were pulling at the side of his hairline, his options were limited and all of them ill-fated.  
  
His mission all along was to take the Siren out, she was meant to be a willing ally to Jack and not a child. Lawrence thumped a clenched fist onto the ground yet the impact did nothing to conquer his anger.  
  
"Dammit! Fuck Vaults! Fuck Jack!" he cursed at his predicament. Lawrence hadn't committed years of violence to finally succumb to being a child murdering dependent to a psychopath.  
  
He threw the echo-comm into the screen which displayed Jack's livid face.  
  
The Vault hunters would kill Lawrence on sight, they'd already taken out other doppelgangers, and their hatred for Jack was as justified as his.  
  
Did Lawrence hate him?  
  
Yes, he had to hate Jack, he just had too, Lawrence reasoned with himself. Jack did this to him, burned his face, alienated him from his friends, destroyed his body with years of abuse. Jack was kind to Lawrence when he wanted him and harsh when he disappointed. Killing the Siren was meant to be a more manageable task than living with Handsome Jack.  
  
 _And now I can't do it._  
  
Another scream rang out, Lawrence jumped to his feet to glance through the window. The Vault Hunters had successfully destroyed another Eridium injector. Even if he could enter the chamber, the Vault hunters wouldn't give him a chance to explain himself before they filled his body with lead.  
  
"Sweetheart, everything you could ever want is within these four walls! Angel, do you have any idea how much I've SACRIFICED FOR YOU?!" Jack's tactics turned as he pleaded with his daughter.  
  
Jack's tone was familiar, desperate and trying to negotiate a way out. Jack had used that same tone with him when Lawrence's had so closely encountered death.  
  
"The bandits I've killed, the people I've manipulated -- everything I've done was to protect YOU!" Jack continued to beg.  
  
A dark and twisted thought lurked at the back of Lawrence's mind, he could just leave now in amongst the chaos, Lawrence reasoned with himself. Jack would still lose everything, and he wouldn't need to do a thing.  
  
It was a plan he could act on, but the twisting feeling in his gut held him in place.  
  
Lawrence had another plan to consider, a crude one, but it was still an option. There would be measures he'd have to take. The tightness in his stomach turned to bile, if he were to pull this off then sacrifices would need to be made.  
  
He was going to do it.  
  
He threw back the iron door and ran through the observation deck exit with such force he crashed into the hallway. He had to get back to his loft; fast.  
  
His long legs bounded up the last of the steps only halting to stop and scan his hand and eye. The red alarms were still dancing along the walls of his loft, he ran to the kitchen and flew open every cabinet he could reach.  
  
A third injector had just been destroyed, as its destruction was followed by the scream of the Siren.  
  
Dammit, it was only moments ago that he was planning on killing the Siren himself, but he didn't believe he was capable of killing a child. However, he'd done a lot of things for Jack he didn't think he was capable of.  
  
Lawrence found the health-kits he was searching for. Sprinting to the sink, he flushed the red fluid into his old coffee mug. He prayed it didn't expire quickly when exposed, he would surely need it later.  
  
He had three empty syringes. Next, he needed...pliers and a torch. A dark thought crossed his mind as he contemplated retrieving the pliers, Lawrence felt his dinner bubble in his throat.  
  
If he was going to _‘save'_ her this was what he had to do.  
  
He ripped his draws apart as he dug around for the equipment he needed. Surely Jack stocked this place with some damn torture equipment? Or a handyman kit at least.  
  
Jack's voice was still booming through every device in the Bunker, "Angel, you can STOP this! I'll still forgive you, baby!"  
  
Lawrence paced over to the computer, gear in hand. He cleared Jack's face away and re-opened the Siren surveillance screen (which he now finally had access too). Angel the Siren briefly hovered in the centre of the room before she dropped to the ground. The Eridium injectors were all destroyed.  
  
"Angel?! NO, ANGEL!" Jack cried.  
  
Lawrence's eyes narrowed at the agony in Jack's voice.  
  
He continued to watch the video feed, the Vault Hunters returned to the Siren's side. Roland knelt beside her and declared she was dead. Lawrence waited for them to leave, they had the key, the Siren was gone.  
  
 _Leave. Now._  
  
Lawrence remained where he was and thankfully so as Jack had digitised into the centre of the room, standing tall, gun in hand. Jack fired, and Roland fell forward, blood painted the faces of the other Vault Hunters.  
  
The other Siren, Lilith screamed and charged forward, but Jack moved faster than even Lawrence could have anticipated. The Firehawk was incapacitated, Lawrence leaned further towards the screen. He couldn't make out the details, but Jack had latched something onto her. She raised her arm, the surveillance feed was briefly consumed by static and purple before revealing the chamber again; the other Vault Hunters were gone.  
  
Jack was no longer speaking over the comms, Lawrence watched as Jack hissed into Lilith's ear, but Lawrence had no clue as to what. Jack reached into his pocket watch, and the two them digitised away.  
  
Lawrence leaned back from the desk, he let out the air he had unknowingly held captive.  
  
 _So that's it_ , Jack got a new Siren and left his daughter in a pool of Eridium. Not even the Vault Hunters examined her vitals, they said she was dead, but didn't anyone really check? They had taken one look at her.  
  
He may still have time.  
  
He shoved the empty health-kits into his belt and the pliers and torch into his jacket pocket.  
  
Lawrence waded through the dark to exit his loft, he ventured further down the hall than he'd ever been permitted to go. This was as close he had been to the Siren's chamber, the ironclad entrance to the chamber, no prison, was bent out of shape. A grenade had buckled the door inward allowing Lawrence to finally move beyond the threshold. He leaned down and shifted under the crumbled remains of the doorway, wires hung low and hissed electricity against his cheeks.  
  
The screens surrounded the chamber had turned to static, and a soft purple glow encased the room.  
  
Jack had returned to Helios with his new Siren, Lawrence had double, no triple checked the Bunker for any human life on the base. Besides himself, there was none.  
  
Lawrence sidestepped through the carnage in the room, a dozen loader-bots and even more torrents laid desecrated across the concrete. The only sound heard was the clinking emitting from the overheated metal.  
  
Sparks dazzled the roof as wires were pulled apart and pools of Eridium had formed from the destroyed injectors. He swiftly turned his gaze away from the Eridium, unable to stomach the thought of the substance running through his own body. He continued to trek through the destruction, his objective insight.  
  
The Siren's head was bowed as she leaned against the base of the enclosure. Her black hair was swept across her face, her body limp and fragile.  
  
Lawrence knelt down beside the girl, gingerly he wrapped both arms around her so he could shift her onto the ground. The Siren laid on her back, hair floating on the surface of Eridium, her face pale and void of expression. Lawrence rested on both knees, Eridium soaked through his pants, and he tried to press all thoughts of the substance away. He could already feel the tingly sensation as the element made contact with his skin. He took out the emptied health kit and slid it into the purple substance which surrounded them both.  
  
Would this work? He thought so, she'd only been without the Eridium for no more than a few minutes, and he of all people knew well the effects it had on the body.  
  
After filling the health kit's chamber, he flicked the needle to remove any air bubbles in a swift, practised motion. Where was he going to shove the damn thing? Her heart? A vein in her arm? Lawrence opted for the former. He lined the point of the needle above her heart and breastplate, dammit I better not miss, Lawrence took a few practice motions to accurately line the needle up.  
  
"Ok...here we go."  
  
Raising his arm high above him he drove the needle down through the girl's chest and delivered the Eridium to her heart.  
  
She remained cold and motionless.  
  
Dammit, Lawrence repeated the process. He soaked up more Eridium into the needle and drove it down the second time. This had to work.  
  
"Come on."  
  
He dropped the syringe so he could hold onto both of the Siren's shoulders as he gently shook her. Her skin was ghastly cold, and she remained unresponsive.  
  
He laid her back down before sitting back defeated. He ran a purple stained hand down his uneven and scared face. This was a giant fuckery, the girl was dead, and Jack still had a Siren and the power to open the Vault. To an extent this was what he wanted all along; Jack's Siren dead, but not like this and not under these circumstances.  
  
"Dad..." Her soft voice cried out to him.  
  
Lawrence jolted his head from his hands, the damn girl was alive. Her eyes fluttered open and shut again, the markings down her arm and chest flickered in the darkness.  
  
"You came back…" her pale hand quivered above the surface of the Eridium in attempt to reach him.  
  
"Ahhh..."  
  
She thought he was Jack.  
  
"Sorry...um," the words came awkwardly to him, "darling."  
  
Lawrence hastily decided to play along with the Siren's case of mistaken identity; for the moment. She gazed at him questioningly before resting back into the pool of Eridium.  
  
Revive her, leave evidence of her death, then flee.  
  
That was his new plan.  
  
Leave evidence of her death, he repeated the thought. Leave evidence of her death, again the plan ran through his mind. Lawrence swayed his head to shake the image away.  
  
He couldn't do it.  
  
However, he needed something, a tooth, some bone anything that could withstand the acidic properties of the Eridium long enough for Jack to ID her. Some trace of her had to stay behind.  
  
 _Fuck, fuck fuck._  
  
The poor girl thought her Dad had come back for her and now he was supposed to rip part of her off. Lawrence hesitantly gazed down at the pliers he'd subconsciously taken out from his jacket pocket.  
  
 _Damn, damn, damn...No...I have to do it_ , he reasoned.  
  
Jack has to think she's dead or he'll never stop looking for her.  
  
Jack had to be convinced without any doubt that his daughter died this day, the madman would tear all of Pandora apart just to get her back.  
  
The Siren, Angel, had fallen limp again, Lawrence pressed two fingers to her neck. No pulse, he dug deeper, it had to be there. He sighed a breath of relief as he found it, her pulse was so faint, irregular but he felt her tiny heart flutter under his hand.  
  
If Lawrence successfully pulled this skag-shit plan off, he'd have one of the universe's most powerful allies by his side. She'd be more than capable of helping him escape Pandora, form a new identity and live what few years he had left alone.  
  
He would never have to be Jack.  
  
"It has to be done," Lawrence spoke aloud to reassure himself.  
  
Bone or teeth?  
  
Lawrence gingerly placed his hands under girls shoulders and shifted her onto his lap. He cuffed a hand under her jaw and opened the girl's mouth. He scoffed at the idea of Jack returning and seeing Lawrence with his hands in his dead daughter's throat.  
  
It has to be bone or teeth, he reasoned again to himself.  
  
Anything else would be eradicated by the Eridium. His pants were surely going to be eaten away by the time he was done. Lawrence turned on the torch and shoved it into his mouth, as a way to keep both hands free as he repositioned the girl. He tilted his head down, so the light was cast down onto the girl's pale face.  
  
This is really a two person job, he frowned. However, he was the only person on the entire base. Who else could he call upon?  
  
Wilhelm was dead (thankfully so), Nisha was sickeningly loyal to Jack, Athena and Janey were long gone, and Felicity one of the few genuine ‘people' he'd met had her mind crushed.  
  
Lawrence's eyes narrowed as he summarised the very short list of people he knew, half were either dead the others he couldn't trust to follow a recipe.  
  
He maneuvered the girl's mouth so he could see down her throat and he spotted her back teeth. Thank god her wisdom teeth are there, they are the back ones, right? She won't miss them.  
  
Moving the torch back into his hand and the pliers raised in the other he got into position. He gently pushed the pliers down, and on the first go, he grasped onto the back tooth. He dropped the torch and held onto her jaw tight.  
  
Lawrence yanked hard and outward. The pliers hit the top of the girl's mouth, and blood gushed down her face. It took more work than he had hoped but eventually, Lawrence was beaming at his prize, the wisdom tooth was poised between the claws of the pliers. Blood was now drowning the poor girl's face.  
  
There was too much blood. Lawrence did not like his chances getting a second, let alone a third or fourth. He ripped a sizable portion of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and drove it into the side of her mouth, hastily he lined the pliers up to find the left tooth. He had to do it.  
  
After some struggling, he claimed the second prize.  
  
Lawrence shook his head, this was a piss poor plan, but he had to leave some form of DNA evidence behind. There was no use retrieving anymore, too much blood welled in her mouth.  
  
He tugged up his pants to reveal the blade holstered to his leg, he unsheathed it. Its silver blade reflected the purple luminosity of the room as he gave it a quick twirl in his hand. He held the Sirens head up as he cut away at her hair. It was most likely futile, the Eridium would eat away at it before the end of the hour, not even the DNA would survive. But he couldn't bring himself to take any more of her teeth...or let alone bone.  
  
 _This will just have to work. It has too. It's a shit plan, but it just has to._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timothy uses the word hate a lot towards Jack and look, I don't think he knows what that word means.
> 
> Your comments mean so much! Please let me know how you're finding the setup :D Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \---------------- GLOSSARY ----------------
> 
> Cycle - refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)
> 
> Gear Chip - A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.
> 
> Gear Chip Scanner - A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items
> 
> Hyperphire - Is Hyperions patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.


	4. An Unwelcome Guest

Before leaving the Siren’s chamber, he filled all three emptied health kits with liquid Eridium. Who knew how often he was going to have to inject her? 

Next, he scattered what remained of her hair and the teeth he extracted into the purple pool and finally, he made the awkward journey back to his loft. The girl weighed next to nothing but maneuvering through the blasted door had proved challenging.

There were too many holes in his plan to count, but he could not leave her.

He'd crossed many lines.

Killing a child or leaving one for dead was one he hadn't crossed. Yet.

What was he going to do about her clothes? They should be down in the Eridium, and surely he didn't have enough DNA to convince any scan she was there, and what if Jack had data on dead Sirens? Lawrence was hoping everyone would assume she’d just melted away into the Eridium, a skag-shit idea, but to Jack, it could be plausible.

In all likelihood, she'd have more Eridium than blood pumping through her veins right now. So yeah, plausible. 

Lawrence shook his head; he needed an escape plan fast. Jack would be back for the body soon; it was his daughter, after all. Then again he could already be too distracted with his new Siren. The latter thought seemed more likely as Jack was a coward. He'd sooner walk through a burning room than face what he'd done.

The Siren or Angel rested upon his unmade bed. Lawrence huffed irritably at the thought of rest. It seemed so long ago that he was in a deep, peaceful sleep, killing skags or something. 

Did he need to give her another injection? How long was he going to be able to keep this up? What dosage was too much?

He knew what dosage was too much for himself; experience had made him learn that hard lesson. She was a Siren and one dependant on Eridium, it wasn't a fair comparison. 

He knew his share on the properties of Eridium in the human body. It was a catalyst and reacted to the substance in which surrounded it. When in contact with blood and cells it acted to repair them. The same should go for a Siren, but what else would it do? He’d heard how Lilith moved all of Sanctuary with the use of Eridium. What possibilities it had allowed Angel to do?

Her round face was deathly pale, brow furrowed and blue lips parted as she drew deep breaths. Her hair and clothes were still wet with Eridium, and subsequently, she’d drenched his sheets purple. 

He needed her awake. He was well aware of the Sirens ability to navigate software, at least Jack had trusted him enough with that piece of information. The surveillance footage from her chamber and the surrounding halls had to be edited and then destroyed.  He sat cautiously on the bed next to her; needle in hand. He’d done this twice now and yet the thought still made his stomach turn. His fear of heights had abated a little after his time on Elpis, but his fear of needles ran deep.

_ I’ll try her arm this time, no more chest stabbing. _

He stripped his spare pillow and used the case to wrap around her upper arm. Soon after her veins raised providing him with a viable shot. Jaw clenched he slowly pushed the Eridium into her arm, the second it was empty he hastily pulled it out and put the syringe a reasonable distance from himself.

He should not be around Eridium in such easy access. 

The Siren let out a soft cry and rubbed her arm where the needle had momentarily been. 

“Ahhh, Angel?” Lawrence moved closer so she could hear him. Her name felt odd to say aloud. 

She tilted her head toward the sound of his voice. Her eyes parted slowly to reveal a vivid blue eye; the other was still lost under her mattered and chopped hair. 

“...I don’t understand,” she whispered back to him.

A pale tattoo laced arm reached for his face and Lawrence allowed her to touch his jaw. 

“Where's your mask?…. You never take it… Off.” She closed her eyes again, and her hand fell into his lap.

No wonder she thought he was her Dad. Jack had branded him with the same mark of the Vault. There was very little - say for some extra grey hair and scars on his part - to distinguish the two men apart.

“I... Ahh, don’t need to wear it around you, K?” Lawrence responded in a voice far softer than he knew he possessed. 

Her eyes were closed again, yet she nodded her head.

Lawrence glanced over his shoulder to find the synthetic face discarded on the marble floor from whence he’d thrown it away. Today was meant to be the last day he would ever be Jack, yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her just yet.

Her delicate features were severely swollen from his earlier “dentistry” work. He’d shoved and removed several cotton buds in her mouth to soak up the blood, but his pillow had still soaked through. Guilt only claimed him for a moment. His actions had no doubt saved her life and freed her from like of servitude. 

_ Revive the girl, scatter the DNA, place the clothes, delete the surveillance footage, burn the sheets, find more liquid Eridium, get supplies, flee…. _

That was the plan.

“Alrighty,” Lawrence whispered. He needed to dump the Sirens clothes back into the Eridium. They would inevitably dissolve, but he still needed the evidence to at least be there.

She was out cold again. 

He needed her outfit, but Lawrence really didn’t feel like adding ‘stripping minors’ onto his resume, he’d already contributed ‘shitty dentistry work’ to the list today. He could give her another dose of Eridium? That had seemed to ‘perk’ her up. His shoulders hunched over as he clenched his fits. Jack had all too often pumped him full with the same substance to ‘spur the life’ back into him. 

As the double to the most feared and hated man on Pandora, he had his fair share of assassination attempts. Poisoned twice (the second time almost killed him), kidnapped three times for ransom and hit in the neck from a failed sniper shot. Jack would dose him up on Eridium and fuss over him until he was back on his feet. This attention would be fleeting, and before long Lawrence would be back on the field. Ready to do it all again. He leaned forward off the bed, hands sinking into his scarred face with his back hunched away from her. He always knew the outcome of this day would be a chaotic mess, anything involving Sirens, Vault Hunters and defining Jack’s orders entailed that. But this? Yeah, this took the cake.

He unclenched his fits. His palms were discoloured as the blood rushed back to them.

The clothes situation can wait…

Lawrence ran another hand through his greying hair, pausing for a for a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to approach her about editing the surveillance footage. Even in her half-dead state she’d be better equipped at hacking and editing than himself. 

“Ahhh, Angel? I need you to perk up a bit honey.”

She remained unresponsive.

Lawrence leaned forward to reach the syringe he’d discarded earlier. How often was he going to have to do this? At this rate, it seemed every ten minutes. His stomach turned as he slid the needle back into the same spot to deliver the Eridium.

_ I am keeping her alive _ , he argued with himself. Yet, Jack would have reasoned the exact same thing, and Lawrence subsequently shuddered in rage. He barely took notice when Angel spoke to him again.

“Dad... Just... Let me go,” she whispered, her tone drained of all energy.

He squeezed the girl's hand.

“I can’t do that,” he replied solemnly. 

“God damn you…” Her bright eyes opened and bore into him with such contempt that Lawrence could feel her gaze shiver over him.  

Her eyes were wide as she spoke, “It’s over… they won... you lost...”

“I can fix you” Lawrence interjected.

The soft features around her eyes narrowed, and she drew a sharp breath.

Lawrence was sure there was a rebuttal coming, but the girl closed her mouth again. The Eridium was wearing off at an alarming rate. Angel closed her eyes and rested her head back on the pillow. She was seemingly unaware her face was swollen and covered in blood. Lawrence controlled his rage, and with a deep sigh, he shed all remorse he had for his actions. He needed this Siren if he were to ever leave Pandora.

He would not spend the last of his years on this planet. Wasting away to nothing...

“Angel... Honey,”

He squeezed her hand and drew up a tablet from his bedside table. 

“I need the surveillance footage from this feed edited.”

She remained motionless, but Lawrence was sure his words were reaching her.

“Can you edit it from 348 hrs until now... Can you do that for me please?”

The Siren’s last words to her dad were, ‘you're an asshole’. He wasn’t hopeful his request would be granted. To his surprise, the girl slowly nodded her head. She lifted her tattooed arm towards the tablet held in front of her and placed her whole palm against it. The tattoos fluttered a brilliant white which encased the room in her decorative markings. 

“Ok thanks, kiddo, I need you to replace it with static… And then cut it to black. All of it. I also need all the cameras out of action... For good.”

A moment passed before her hand fell from the tablet back to the bed.

“Done…” a barely audible whisper escaped her blue lips. 

“Atta girl.” He gingerly patted her arm. 

Lawrence hastily refreshed the feed and saw it was indeed done. If anyone else viewed the file, they’d see static from the moment Lilith transported the vault hunters away. 

There was only so much Eridium he could scavenge from her chamber. Its liquid form needed to remain cold and the purple substance below would be contaminated and turning to crystal. With the injectors destroyed he’d need to get more elsewhere. 

A soft chime rang down the room and Lawrence jerked his head at the sudden interruption. The unfamiliar noise was emitted from his workstation. It repeated. He lifted himself off the bed, was it another alarm?

Reaching his desk he saw his computer revealed a large notification across the desktop. 

_ ‘INCOMING FAST TRAVEL APPROVAL NEEDED.’ _

Someone was trying to activate the fast travel system. The only one who had clearance was Jack, and there was only one point of travel, Jack's office.

The message read on.

  
  


_ ‘OCCUPANT: Female’ _

_ ‘DESTINATION: Lynchwood to Bunker: Control Core.’ _

  
  


_Nisha…_ _Goddammit_ , Jack must have opened the system up for her. She was likely sent here to collect him and retrieve Angel’s body. He had more than enough pressing matters to deal with and her sadistic presence lofting around his place would do nothing to abate them. He glanced over his shoulder at Jack’s Eridium addicted daughter. 

He wasn't ready to bail on this shit show just yet.

He couldn’t reject Nisha, Jack and his paranoia would suspect treason in a heartbeat. He'd have to accept her request, but first, he needed a hiding place for Angel. He swung around and bolted back to bed where the comatose Siren lay. Gingerly he shifted both arms under her and propped her up against him and lifted her up.

Where was he going to put her? The architects of his loft were overly fond of the open planned layout. Only the bathroom remained closed off. Lawrence pivoted on the spot, desperately seeking a place to lay the poor girl

The girl’s pale face stirred in his arms, restless as the Eridium left her body. Lawrence spied the pocket-watch attached to the front of his jacket; Jack’s clocking device.

He'd finally been assigned his own cloaking-device when he was granted the Siren babysitting gig. It was Jack’s old device, when Jack upgraded to the new improved model - that allowed him to jump to Fast travel points - Lawrence was handed down the original. 

He swiftly lowered the girl back to the bed in the gentlest manner he could afford, unclipped the pocket watch off the front of his leather bomber jacket and attached it to the girl's waist. Opening up the face of the watch he was able to activate the device, upon latching it shut, the Siren vanished. 

_ Sorted _ . 

He darted back to the workstation and hastily hit the keys to give Nisha access to Bunker.

_ ‘CLEARANCE HAS BEEN GRANTED. New occupant has arrived at the Bunker: Control Core. ‘ _

The notification popped up. The fast travel bypassed ALL of the security measures, it was one hell of a hole in the bunker's defences, but a necessity if Jack wanted to visit his Siren. 

Lawrence’s attention turned to his appearance. His hands on the keyboard were stained purple and red. Standing up he took a step back and examined his shirt, it was torn and also soaked in Eridium and Angel's blood.

Nisha would’ve arrived not far from the entrance to his loft and she’d be outside his door any second. 

Lawrence hastily stripped his holster and stained shirt off and threw it under the dresser. His eyes caught sight of his reflection, his tall body was toned but not without damage. Years of battles and assassination attempts had left it scared in too many places to count. Every mark he got, Jack tried to 'fix'. He snatched the cleanest shirt available to him; it was his burgundy gym tank. Lastly, he shoved his brown leather gloves on to hide his stained hands and his holster back over his shoulders.

Time to go greet his unwelcome guest.

He opened the door to the stairwell and peered down the hall at Nisha. She leaned against the railing, Head cocked to the side, and a captivating smile etched across her face, yet her eyes did not hold the same warmth.

“Where's your mask?” She accused as she tossed a dark strand from her face.

He gave her no reply and jerked his head over her shoulder to invite her in.

Nisha paused before ascending the stairwell. Gazing down at her as she approached he couldn’t dismiss the fact that Nisha possessed a gorgeous frame for him to admire. Black hair cloaked the sides of her round face, and a toned body strode towards him. If only he could bring himself to forget who she was in every way possible.

Lawrence paced back to the kitchen and opened the top oak cupboards to search for his crystal tumblers.

“Drink?” He offered to his supposed ally.

She eyed him and gave him a slow nod. A broad smile never leaving her lips.

”Always,” she cooed to him. 

Lawrence poured her a generous amount of scotch and slid the honey coloured drink towards her.

“Did you know?” Lawrence questioned as he fiddled the cork back into the bottle. 

He knew full well that Jack would never have told her about his Siren daughter. In the past few years, he’d became Jack's closest confidence, surpassing even Nisha. If Jack hadn’t confided the existence of Angel to him, then he wouldn’t have told anyone else. 

Her eyes never left his as she twirled the crystal tumbler in her hand, inside the golden liquid danced. 

“No,” She finally answered.

Nisha broke their gaze and looked down at her drink.  

Lawrence resisted the urge to sneer at her, she was hurting. Jack hadn’t revealed that little secret. She broke out of her self-pity and turned back to meet his gaze.

“What happened here? Jack isn’t saying anything?”

“Vault hunters show up, Vault hunters kill Jack's Siren daughter, Jack kills Roland, Jack takes Lilith, last of the vault hunters escape.”

“And you?”

“Locked out of action.”

Nisha raised a single thin brow.

“Jacks defences prevented me from getting into the room with the Siren. The Vault Hunters were never meant to get that far.”

Nisha leaned further into the bench that kept them separated.

“You need to return to Helios, Jack’s orders.”

“Yeah that ain't happening,” Lawrence scoffed at the absurdity of the idea.

“I’m meant to bring you in if you don't comply,” her voice didn’t waver.

“Jack’s daughter is dead, and I was responsible for the security, so yeah, nah, not going. You’ll just have to go back empty-handed.” 

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders and gave her an empty look. 

The nails on her hands clinked against the glass as she ran them against the crystal. Her hand was an arm's length away from her holstered gun. Unbeknownst to her, Lawrence had a Hyperion revolver taped under the bench between them as well as the one holstered under his arm. If things were to go south, he’d have the upper hand. 

To his surprise she sighed and took another long drink; her gun remained holstered. 

“I’ll give you twelve hours,” she negotiated, “ _ Just _ for Jack to cool off. Then you're coming in.” 

He gave her a polite smile followed by a nod of thanks. Although doubt reeked through him. Nisha’s mercy was a rarity that Lawrence had not seen the likes off.

She finished her drink and tilted the glass towards him, indicating she was after a second; he obliged.

Was she planning on spending the entire twelve hours here? Lawrence could not allow that. 

The tension was so thick he felt he could choke on it. To abate his struggling composure he finished his drink and poured a second. He took another long sip, before placing it down. Nisha hadn’t made a move to leave and she was still leaning into the table. Her coat parted and chest exposed.

“I’m sure we could do more than drinking to pass the time,” she purred.

Her eyes lingered on his bare arms, tracing the tattoos on his wrist and following the scars that decorated his biceps. Over the years Nisha’s appetite had grown. Before he was branded she thought of him nothing more than a cruel joke. She had been very vocal about that. Later he would find out it was actually her idea to brand him. However, as Lawrence killed and plundered Pandora Nisha’s interest grew. He could swear her fantasy involved him and Jack doing something unforgivable to her in the middle of The Dust. He raised a brow as he turned to escape her hungry gaze, eagerly wanting to dismiss the thought.

A soft moan escaped from the back of his loft. Angel was calling out to him. 

“What was that?” She was abruptly pulled out of her fantasy. Eyes sharp and brow furrowed she stood from her chair.

Lawrence gave Nisha no explanation.

He went for the gun under the table, in one swift motion he swung it up and fired. It would’ve been a clean kill, but Nisha had spent her entire childhood dodging violence. She dove behind his couch before returning fire. Blood trickled the floor, GOOD, he’d hit her somewhere.

“Fuck you, you damn copy!” She cursed back at him from behind the couch, all tones of seduction were gone.

“What the fuck was that?” She continued to curse and Lawrence kept his aim focused.

He chose to evade her questions. “I was hoping you’d have more empathy than this Nisha!”

“What?” she sneered from behind her cover. 

“Jack imprisoned his daughter, chained her to Eridium injectors for years.” He paused, he knew how to hit home. “Didn't your mother teach you it was wrong to hurt children?” 

Nisha flung an absurd amount of vile curses at him. 

“What would you care!? You only knew of her existence a few hours ago!” She hissed at him.

She had him there.

Lawrence despised to have Nisha as an ally, yet she was the sheriff of an Eridium mining town. A substance he was in desperate need of. 

He heard a tearing sound and Nisha grunting.

“All right there Kiddo?” Lawrence spoke in his double’s tone. 

“Shut it!"

Nisha continued to hiss through gritted teeth as she bandaged herself. Lawrence still didn’t have eyes on her, but it was evident she was bleeding out. Dark crimson was running through the grooves of his tiled floor from behind the couch.

“Nisha, I’ve got Jack's Daughter.” 

The Lawbringer remained silent.

“She’s in bad shape. Chances are she won't make it.”

“So what? Are you trying to play hero here?” 

Lawrence clenched his teeth. That word had lost its meaning a long time ago.

“She needs more Eridium.”

“Ha! Are you askin for my help cowboy?” She scoffed before taunting him, “I don’t think so.” 

Dammit you stupid depraved woman

“You just fucking shot me,” she shouted.

“I thought that would get your attention.” He’d honestly just acted instinctively once Angel’s cover had been blown.

“You’ve not got a lot of choices here, pumpkin,” he stressed the use of the pet name.

Silence followed again.

“Where's the girl?” Nisha finally spoke, her voice softening for the first time since their fire-fight.

“I’m going to lower my gun... I need you to stand up slowly for me.”

“I don’t think so, love,” the bitterness returned to her voice. 

Lawrence patience was up. He strode over to the couch, gun aimed where he assumed Nisha’s head would be. He turned the corner, anticipating a load of gunfire and thankfully, received none. 

He glared down at his fallen comrade. She was a few tints paler, and her left arm gripped her right shoulder which was crudely bandaged. Her gun was poised in her other hand aimed directly at his head. Her face was unwavering in its fierce dedication to remain focused, and her gun arm was steady regardless of the blood loss.

“Idiot... “ he muttered to her and her lips twitched resisting a smile.

He offered her his hand with his gun still in the other. She stared at his open palm in disgust for a solid ten seconds before refusing it and shifted herself up the couch. She stood, legs firm on the ground, but her face was even paler than before.

Lawrence scoffed at Nisha's resistance, before walking back over to the kitchen. His face did not reveal the panic in his chest as he slowly turned his back to her. He found the emptied contents of the Ashin health-kit in his coffee mug. He gave it a light swirl to check it hadn't expired since being exposed. Satisfied it was still good, he gingerly made his way back to Nisha. 

He offered her the cup and she glanced down at its red contents.

“Why is  _ that _ , in a mug?”

“Just take it, will you?” Lawrence pressed.

He observed how her hand quivered as she reached for the glass, she scolded him when he took notice. Nisha pressed the mug to her lips and downed all of it. 

“Hey... Hey! Cut it!” He snatched the mug from her hands, “that's all we’ve got.”

“Oh so, it's we now?”

_ Bloody hell. _

“Come ere,” he gruffed at her, again he exposed his back to the Lawbringer. Her footsteps steady themselves behind him as she followed. Lawrence led her through the living room around the back to where his open bedroom sat. 

“Oh is foreplay over already?” She pressed her index finger deep into the back of his arm and ran it down before he yanked away. 

“Honey I’m into some rough play, but what happened here?” She scanned his purple and blood-stained bed. 

Her eyes lingered on the empty syringe and the other two, full of Eridium on his bedside table.

"You're not using again are you, baby?"

Lawrence gave her a dangerous look. 

She snaked her way from behind him and approached the set of needles. Lawrence pushed past her before she could reach for one. He leaned down and ran his hands along the invisible surface of the Siren. He found the round metal texture of his pocket watch, pried it open and switched the device off.

The Siren instantly appeared before them both.

Lawrence stepped back as Nisha move towards the girl. She stood tall, and stared down at Angel, unaware that Lawrence could see her hand quiver before she clenched it tight.

“She looks nothing like him…” Nisha observed softly. Her hand unclenched as she reached out to touch the girl, assuring she was real.

“And what happened to her face?”

Lawrence scrunched his jaw tight as he checked over Nisha's shoulder. Angel’s face was severely swollen on both sides and blood stained down her chin.

“Yeah, that was my bad.” He reached for the emptied syringe and sucked up what Nisha had left in the mug. 

“Scoot over,” he placed a hand on Nisha to push her away so he could sit down next to the girl.

He pressed the needle into her jaw and let the last of the health kit work its magic. Nisha folded both her arms, hips cocked to the side again. The health kit she’d drank earlier had done its work, as all evidence of their little shootout had left her body. 

Lawrence looked up at her, hand running over his jaw as he focused his next words. “This stuff,” he pointed over to the Eridium, “is the only thing keeping her alive.” 

He sighed before continuing, “I think if I can ween it off her, she may be able to make it, but I need more Eridium, and it has to be in its liquid form.”

“That's not going to be easy, Handsome.”

Lawrence ignored the pet name and folded his arms, “I know, but you could get it for me.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

Nisha sauntered a few steps towards him and lowered herself, so she was level with him on the bed.

“Jack would love to know that his favourite double brought his daughter back to life,” she cooed to him, moving closer than he liked. 

Despite his reasoning, he still felt a hot flush run down his chest. 

“For god’s sake Nisha,” he growled and placed a hand on her chest to stop her advancements.

Annoyed at her rejection, she straightened back up. “Just because mummy threw a few things at me, doesn't mean I’m about to bail out of my gig with Jack - which is lovely at the moment, thanks for asking - and go play Siren babysitting with you.”

Lawrence shook his head away from her to look down onto Jack's daughter. 

To his surprise, Nisha spoke in a softer tone.

“But…” She seemed lost for words, Lawrence jerked his head towards her and studied her face. Her jaw was tight, and her head gave the slightest nod before she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll see that the girl lives.”

_ Oh-my-fucking-god, thank fuck, finally. _

Nisha would never admit to him, but Lawrence’s suspicions were right. The woman could not let it slide that Jack had abused his own daughter for years. His face must have revealed what he was thinking, and Nisha’s round features screwed up as she hissed at him, “Oh it's not what you think pretty boy. I’ll get something out of you later.”

_ Yeah, most likely a spit-roast.  _

Lawrence couldn't help that thought reveal itself on his face, and he gave her a toothy grin. 

Nisha ignored him, “Is she right to travel?”

“Not likely and we can’t use the fast travel option, Jack would notice a third person leaving the complex.”

“Fine, she stays. You, with me.”

Reluctantly, Lawrence bid the sleeping siren farewell with a final double Eridium dose before departing. He quickly put another shirt on over his gym tank to Nisha’s displeasure before meeting her at the fast travel station.

Nisha selected ‘Lynchwood’.

“Time for you to get cozy at my place.” 

And they both digitised away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nisha is the best.
> 
> As always your thoughts and comments are much appreciated. Trying to keep to a weekly update schedule so stay tuned!
> 
> And thanks to those who have commented so far! It's great to hear your thoughts! xxx
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)


	5. Envy & Lust

Lynchwood; the name was accurate, and Nisha was fond of how well her little mining town had grown. When Jack first asked her to run the county, she’d thrown her head back and laughed the idea off. It was nothing but a dead, barren place, full of decrepit lost souls, but it was her town, and with time she’d made it as she saw fit.

“This way” Nisha barked at Lawrence to follow, “and quickly now, I don’t want these heathens to witness me escorting my ‘boyfriend’ around town.”

She adjusted the golden star atop her jacket as she quickened her pace away from the train station. Only slowing down to take a moment to study her lover’s double. His mismatched eyes were sharp, and they darted along the rooftops, his posture low and ready for action.

“Relax, nothing to fear here,” she deliberately concealed a reassuring tone.

They strode down the train tracks, not bothering with the perfectly usable path alongside it. Nisha felt a jolt of warmth run over her chest as she eyed some poor soul hide beneath his window upon seeing her.

“I've always loved what you’ve done with the place,” Lawrence gave her a toothy grin as he eyed the hanging corpses above the tracks.

“There are rules to be followed, Jack wanted order on Pandora, so I’ve given it to him,” she asserted.

Lawrence just grumbled a “sure thing,” but she paid him no mind.

The double had never been fond of their vision for Pandora, sure he would head out on missions, kill bandits, comply with torture when needed, but she saw the doubt and conflict residing within him.

He may have Jack fooled, but she knew better. Regardless, she’d see him through his doubt; _I’ll make a man out of him yet._

Her brisk pace came to a halt as they reached the far end of the mine, around a sharp corner an elevator lay waiting to escort them to the top of the canyon. She’d designed the place herself. Her manor was embedded into the side of the canyon so she could overlook every aspect of her dirt-ridden town. Twelve men died halfway through construction when the scaffolding partially collapsed, that detail added extra flavour to her residence.

The elevator ride was loud, and the motor that pulled the cart to the top stalled once or twice. Nisha relished the sight of Lawrence grasping the railing in alarm as they neared the end of their accent. Contrary to what he may have told her, his fear of heights was still strong.

Another grind of metal on metal revealed her stone walled apartment. The place was narrow to allow for a massive window to run the length of it to let in the light. Nisha swayed past him and led him into the kitchen, deliberately bending low as she sought out a cooler-bag for him.

Lawrence had followed silently, his eyes still shifting to every corner to identify a threat. His discomfort made something stir within in her; she could almost purr at his fear.

“So what's your heroic plan with the girl? Going to play papa and whisk her away?”

Lawrence took a deep breath before answering, “the less you know, the better. She can’t go back to Jack.”

Nisha replied with a low growl, her mind raced as she sought an alternative way forward. She would never betray Jack, but something irked her about this Angel. Was she really his daughter? Maybe she was some Siren he just stole and got attached too, that seemed far more likely.

Either way, with Lawrence running off with the girl she’d have the attention of Jack back in her grasp. He’d been very protective and overly forgiving of his double. It was a nuisance to find Jack fussing over him instead of her.

Nisha shuddered with silent rage and bit down on her lip. She despised how her envy could take over. She caught Lawrence eyeing her up and down, and Nisha couldn’t distinguish between the feelings of wanting to hit him or kiss him. Instead, she turned and sauntered over to her freezer. She placed both hands down and swung open the double doors, swaying to the side to dramatise the moment.

Lawrence stepped forward, and his eyes scanned the contents of the freezer. Nisha stepped further aside to allow him access.

“Eridium, all stocked here, this liquid stuff does wonders when you're feeling low.”

Lawrence slowly turned, so his eyes latched onto hers, his dorky smile was replaced with a cold gaze as he reached to retrieve the cooler-bag from grasp.

“I know precisely what it does,” he spoke in a low snarl as he turned his attention to the freezer.

“Oh I know darling, Jack told me about your little incident,” she taunted back.

It felt good to watch his back stiffen at her words, payment for the taunts he’d delivered to her earlier. Jack had given her all of the delicious details, how he’d found his double passed out in his own stomach contents, the syringe still embedded in his arm and their place ransacked. Apparently, Jack’s little copy couldn’t keep his pretty little hands off the purple stuff. She would've given up ownership of the town to see that smug face of his withering in pain, suffering from weeks of withdrawals. She had resented Lawrence during that time as Jack had vented most of his anger towards her, Jack had taken weeks of work to smother that boy in affection to bring him back ‘to the light.’

Envy reared its ugly head again as she bit down on her tongue to suppress the thought.  She toyed with the idea of pushing the matter further, to see him riled up would be a sweet treat.

Jack was overly fond of his double, and despite her resentment, she could see why. He had Jacks looks, and more muscle tone than him, he was more sensitive, but he had a dry wit about him that she loved and his finesse in battle could not be underrated.

These days, Jack’s handiwork with a gun was sloppy at best.

Nisha reaped in the sight as he leaned into the freezer to collect the bottled Eridium. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d have Lawrence under her influence. Before he’d been stationed to guard that Siren, Jack had sent them out into The Dust to seek out some rare old Atlas tech. The mission proved fruitless; instead, they were ambushed by a heavily armed and coordinated gang of bandits, their attack caught them off guard, but they prevailed.

Lawrence had burst into hysterics from the high of the battle and their close scrape with death. His chest was painted crimson from a close-range shotgun blast, and his face was wild with relief. She’d never let her lust abate her, and she didn’t then. Nisha had flung herself into her lover’s copy, and he had reciprocated her with the same ferocity. All memory of the nervous and awkward double had been wiped from her mind. Ever since he’d been burned with the mark of the Vault, he had become a different man. This man before her still had his faults, his doubts about Pandora, but at least he actually accompanied her into battle.

Nisha’s tongue rolled over her teeth at the memory, it had been a one-time thing, but she would never say no to round two.

Lawrence finished stashing the last of the bottled Eridium away.

“I suppose we won't be able to play anymore after this?” her tone as sly as the smile she gave the double.

“Guess not,” he shrugged as he placed the full cooler-bag on the ground.

“I’m sure your princess can wait a little longer to be saved.”

He sighed, “Nisha I have to-”

Nisha caught him by surprise as both her hands leapt onto his chest. Lawrence stumbled back into the open freezer, but he didn’t protest. She heard him grunt as his back was driven into the cold shelving, she purred at his discomfort.

Lawrence drew a sharp breath as she clawed a hand down his biceps before locking her teeth into his neck. She took in everything she could, his scent was different from Jack’s, and his collarbone was more pronounced. Her hands ran feverishly over his angular back; his shoulders were not as broad, oh but, he was so much fitter, and firmer than the real Jack. Evidence of the double’s field work and a lack of Jack’s.

Lawrence didn’t pause to argue the situation, and Nisha was thankful for that. His tongue dived into her waiting mouth. Their kiss was violent, teeth hit teeth and tongues were nipped, it wasn’t romantic or graceful, but Nisha couldn’t care less.

Her hands slipped down his back, over his hips, going lower, seeking their mark. Lawrence only gripped her tighter, and she felt hot waves run down her exposed navel. Nisha let out a shudder from the sudden sensation ripping through her abdomen. Lawrence’s grip on her shoulders loosened, and he leaned back to latch his mismatched eyes onto hers. His soft expression sharpened and the scars on his face contorted.

“So sorry kitten” he purred in a tone which mocked her own and Jack’s.

The pain overcame her lust, and Nisha stepped back to see Lawrence’s unsheathed knife deep in her lower left abdomen. Hot blood had already soaked down her pants, and her hands shook over the embedded blade, unsure whether to leave it or shove the damn thing into his neck.

Lawrence’s hand dived forward and drew the knife out. A curse tried to slip out, but she fumbled the words, her knees went weak, and she fell to her knees and palms to steady her breathing.

“You..cunt...” she hissed looking up at him.

Lawrence had already lifted the strap of the cooler-bag over his shoulder and just gave her one of his hunched up shrugs. A profoundly satisfied expression was imprinted on his scarred face as he kneeled down before her. The knife now sheathed and a gun was in his hand.

“You know, I think I recognise this look,” he spoke as his eyes trailed over her face, “yeah, it's _exactly_ how I must've looked before you handed Jack that searing iron bar,” he spoke with such venom she was sure his tongue was forked.

“You bastard” she grunted through her teeth, you should thank me.

“That mark on your face made you everything you are” she heaved through sharp, shallow breaths. “You think I was interested in the man you were before that?!”

Lawrence only responded by standing back up; gun pointed at her head. Blood pooled beneath her. It took more energy than she cared to admit to stare up at him.

“I can’t have you crawling back to Jack, and I know how much you’d want to give him the good news about his dear Angel” the words were more Jack like than she could imagine, cruel and coated in glee.

She shuddered, regretting all previous thoughts regarding his weaknesses, what kind of monster had he become?

“I won’t tell him” she began to reassure him, but his gaze wielded no mercy.

“Yes, you would” He gave a brisk tisk and shook a finger at her.

“No, wait! Tim-”

The gun fired and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not canon for Nisha to go out this way, but hey, this is how she dies if your player doesn't complete that mission ;) and she died trying to get laid and that's something she'd totally do :) I just wish she could have stayed around longer.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
> 


	6. Escape the Bunker

Lawrence felt an uneasy sensation as every atom was forced back together from the fast-travel. Wincing he took his first step back into the Bunker.

His breathing remained irregular and shallow from his most recent kill. A feverish high swarmed him, and Lawrence grinned at the memory of Nisha’s blood running through the grooves of her stone flooring. The rest of her blood was plastered across his chest and face. He wiped a long hand down his front and removed what blood and brain matter still clung to him.

Nisha’s pleading face was pleasantly engraved in his memory, he gritted his teeth and wished it could have played out longer than it had. She’d even used his real name in her last beg for mercy.

Only Jack could call him Tim.

Lawrence had wanted to destroy that smug confidence of hers for so long, she’d been hovering behind him for years, with a festering hatred and sinful appetite.

However, he could treasure that moment later, pressing matters needed to be dealt with; namely reviving a sick Siren.

He dashed up the stairs to his loft, scanning the security fields before bolting to her side. The girl was still laying on his bed, pale and unmoved. He swiftly shoved the emptied syringe into the bottled Eridium and gave her another dose. Lawrence ignored the tightness in his stomach as he discarded the needle.

She stirred with more effort this time, and her eyes opened quicker than before.

“Dad, what keeps happening...I feel...odd,” she whispered to him.

Lawrence remained unresponsive, he’d not anticipated she’d recover so quickly and so silence seemed like the logical option. She ran a pale hand over her jaw and looked down quizzically when her fingertips had collected the dry blood from her face.

“What happened to my face?” She questioned him again and still, Lawrence left her without answers.

She was alert now, the Eridium proved to be a powerful stimulant, and the swelling on her jaw was visibly reclining.

She frowned as she studied the dried blood on her fingertips, before propping her weight on her elbows and pushing herself up against the leather upholstered headboard. Her eyes scanned the room, there was a clarity to her expression that had not been there before. She raised her hand to her face and brush what remained of her hair away, before opening her eyes wide in terror.

“What happened to my hair?!” She shrieked at him. Her hands frantically ran down the strands of her hair and pulled at nothing when she couldn't find the ends of them.

Lawrence didn’t answer and not because he was deliberately withholding answers but because of her eyes. He couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t noticed it before, but the eye behind her crudely chopped fringe was green; she had Jack’s eyes. Lawrence's mouth was agape as he just stared back at mismatched eyes with his own. There was no mistaking it now, the Siren was indeed Jack’s daughter.

Lawrence cleared his throat, “What is last thing you remember?” he asked cooly. He had no idea how Jack would have interacted with her and he no experience with talking to teenagers.

“Um… I don’t know…” She turned to him as he hands continued to brush through her black hair, her brow still furrowed from discovering her new haircut.

Lawrence decided to give her some answers before pressing the matter.

“I’m sorry about your hair, you were sick, and it was everywhere, so I tried to cut it out.” The lie was pathetic, but it was plausible.

Angel opened her mouth to protest, to provide a counterpoint but he cut her off.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

Angel’s gaze returned to her blood tipped fingers and her lips pressed into a thin line. A deafening silence followed and with every passing moment Lawrence grew impatient.

“Angel?”

“I was helping you with research,” she finally answered, and her tone went flat, like that of an AI.

“Research on what?”

“I believe, I was helping you research...the contagion.”

“Space-hurps?”

She nodded meekly, and her hands began to twist the sheets together.

“What about it?”

“We were looking at the best way to administer the vaccination. I think, it all not clear.”

Her hand rubbed her forehead as if to push the memories forward.

 _Bloody hell_ , Lawrence cursed under his breath. That was four years ago before this base was even built. Did she remember what Jack did to her?

Lawrence knew full well the effects of Eridium treatments on the brain, he’d lost large chunks of time, and the memories that did come back were fleetly and sporadic. He had to rely on Jack to fill him in during these times of blackness.

“Dad, what happened?” She spoke as she looked at her surroundings, “Where am I?”

Lawrence shifted his gaze to his hands that rested on the bedside.

“You ah...were sick, very, very sick. I’ve put you on an Eridium treatment plan to get you back on your feet.”

“What?!”

“It's ok, it’s only a few small doses” he reasoned.

Her eyes darted to the large empty syringes on the bedside table, and her complexion grew paler.

“It doesn't look like a small dose.”

Damn, this girl is sharper than a Rakk's talons.

“Where are we?”

“Pandora.”

“What! Why? Why move me? I thought you said I was safe on Helios!”

Lawrence lifted himself up off the bed and chose to ignore her pleads for answers.

“We need to get moving, There's a safe house not too far from here. Once we’re there I’ll explain everything”, Lawrence finished with a long sigh. He still needed to work out how they were going to get there and what his endgame was.

“But, ah, first, those clothes, you can’t wear those.” Lawrence jerked his head down at her, and her eyes followed his gaze to trail down her blood, and Eridium stained 'clothes'.

They were more like leather straps and cords. What on earth was Jack thinking?

“Oh,” she exclaimed quietly once realising the state she was in.

Lawrence moved to his dresser and tossed the girl one of his grey tees and a Hyperion yellow sweater. Before he could source some pants for her, she yelled out in protest.

“I’m not wearing your clothes! That's just weird.”

“You got a dresser around here?” he replied with a brow raised.

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Get changed, we’re leaving in ten.” With the matter settled he threw her the smallest sized pants he owned.

Lawrence moved to the kitchen to provide Jack’s daughter with some privacy. The bottle of scotch was still on the bench, and so he poured himself a glass to subside his nerves. The drink went down quickly and so a second one was issued and then a third.

Jack loved his scotch, but Lawrence loved old fashions more. They found a compromise with the cocktail, it took some convincing for Jack to take his first sip as he was always prone to anger and outbursts whenever Lawrence wanted him to change a habit that benefited him. However, he ended up winning him over with the smooth and spiced drink. Lawrence allowed a small smile to creep across his face at the thought of them both, before shaking it away when the girl approached.

He turned to face Angel’s newly dressed form. She cautiously stepped towards him, pulling at his sweater, so it sat more like a dress than a top. She looked ridiculous in his clothes though they were more appropriate for travel than what she had been wearing previously.

“What do you want me to do with these?”

She held up her grey, black and yellow leather outfit. Lawrence placed down his drink and took the bundle of clothes off the girl.

“Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

Carrying the clothes, he returned to her chamber, without so much as glance at his surroundings, at the Eridium, he tossed them back into the pool where she once lay. The purple liquid started to foam against the new contents, and he hastily turned and exited the room, as his hands absentmindedly rubbed the inside of his arm. All he could hope for now was that Jack bought the story of his daughter dissolving away into the toxic substance.  
When he returned to his loft, he found the girl on his balcony.

“I know it's not real, but it feels so close to being outside,” she said followed by a soft smile. The girl continued to watch the simulated night sky as Lawrence prepped for their journey.

He stripped his shirt for the second time. Nisha’s blood had sprayed across him, funnily enough, Angel had paid no mind to that. He pushed a cream henley shirt over his head, followed by his brown leather bomber jacket which cuffed at his elbows and finally his leather holster. He equipped everything that could fit in his gear-chip, along with a few days of rations. Everything except the syringes and the cooler bag of Eridium.

“Kiddo, it's time to go,” he called out as he checked his composure in the mirror.

Lawrence shifted the strap of the Eridium bag against his shoulders. When she didn’t respond, he paced back into the kitchen to see that she was leaning on the edge of the balcony.

“Angel!” His voice snapped her out of whatever peaceful thought she was in. “Come over here.”

She walked up to him and her once soft features were furrowed in concern. Lawrence only felt a fleeting moment of guilt for startling the girl.

“I need you to carry this."

He held out the Eridium cooler bag for her to take. Gingerly she reached out and swung the strap over her head. The weight of the bag pulled her shoulders into a slump.

“Can’t you put it in your gear chip? I don’t really feel up to carrying anything.”

“No,” Lawrence replied coolly. He instantly regretted his demeanour as her expression and shoulders sank further with his words.

“I just...can’t be around the Eridium, ok?” He offered her his weak excuse before removing his pocket watch.

“I also need you to wear this.”

He beckoned her to come closer, and her face relaxed after seeing him holding out the clocking device.

“Your pocket watch?”

Lawrence clipped it onto the rim of his sweater which sat baggy against her slight frame.

“Yes, we need to leave this place, and absolutely no one can see you. Do you understand?”

She nodded and looked at the item now adored on her chest.

“Good,” he sighed and shifted his holster again. “Don’t say a word and stay close to me.”

She nodded again.

They couldn’t use the fast travel, Jack would notice a second occupant leaving the complex. He’d already considered fixing one of the Buzzards that had fallen onto the roof but deemed that too long of a task. No, they’d just have to walk out the front door.

It’s finally time leave this skag-shit show. 

* * *

They met zero resistance from the Loader-bots, a sign that Jack hadn’t yet programmed in any commands to prevent him from leaving. Which meant his betrayal was still unnoticed. He strained his ears to make sure the girl stayed close to his side if she ran away now it would’ve all been for nothing.

The road exiting the Bunker was long and sloped around the mountainside, Lawrence kept close to the gravel wall, not wanting to get a glimpse of the path below. He never planed he would have to forfeit the use of Fast-Travel stations. The journey to his safe house was going to be long, and he hoped the girl could make it.

“What time is it?” she hissed and Lawrence scolded at her for breaking her silence. “Six thirty, it won’t be daylight for another twenty-two hours.”

They continued to trudge downhill in the darkness, evading fallen loader bots and dead Hyperion soldiers on either side. Sparks still flew from some of the destroyed loaders, and their ‘corpses’ creaked as they cooled in the night. Scorch marks and blood decorated the paved road.

“What happened here?”

“Angel, quiet,” he hissed back at her, it would only take one loader bot to register her voice and send the details back to the real Jack.

Thankfully the base of the hill was in sight, and Lawrence sighed in relief. Perhaps they could snag a vehicle from a nearby camp? Though the relief was short-lived, they were now faced with no man's land, a barren wasteland scarred with craters from either combatant's bombs and snipers.

Lawrence scanned the view in front, unsure of the best way to proceed he fiddled with his holster in anticipation.

The safe house was all the way to the north of the Highlands on the edge of The Dust, a three hundred kilometre journey, impossible on foot undetected.

“There,” Lawrence pointed ahead.

Angel had seemingly taken off the clocking device and was now squinting at his side.

“That truck, we’re taking that.”

“Ok…” she answered slowly, evidently unsure as to why he needed to steal a bandit truck.

Lawrence turned and rested a hand on her shoulder, he ignored how she flinched at his touch.

“I’ll explain everything once we get to the safe house.”

She nodded meekly.

“How are you feeling, you may need another dose.” Lawrence looked down at the bag strapped over her shoulder.

“I’m ok.”

“Good...for now, it’ll be best if you stay put, I’ll bring the truck over.”

The truck was hundred, no maybe a hundred and fifty meters away, Lawrence digitised his sniper out from his gear chip and activated its night vision. Looking down the sight he could see that the truck was taken out by the Bunker’s torrents, the roof of the car was littered with holes and picked clean corpses lined the ground next to it. The engine looked relatively intact, proof that the accuracy of the torrents was profound as they had seemingly hit only its bandit targets.

Lawrence drew up a cruel smile, the torrent’s accuracy was his handy work.

Upon taking his first step into the unoccupied territory, his heart instantly quickened. He stalked towards the car and kept low to the ground. Every so often he darted to a bomb crater for shelter before edging back out and advancing forward.

The ground was barren except for the drying remains of bones and casing shells. Lawrence wondered if there was anything valuable to loot? No one walked through these parts, so the chances of a good find were high.

A faint crack echoed in the distance, snapping him out of his thoughts as he was flung to the ground.

“DAD!” The girl shrieked in the distance.

Before he could register the pain, Lawrence rolled back into the crater from whence he just exited. The sniper from the Slab bandit’s camp fired again but only claimed the dirt above him.  
Pain seared up his arm, he yanked up his jacket and looked down at her bicep, thankfully there was an exit wound. Lawrence buried the back of his head into the dirt, keeping himself level with the ground as possible. There was another crack, and more dirt flew overhead.

Thankfully Brick's snipers were a terrible shot, if they were half as good as he, Lawrence would be dead.

His eyes scanned the edges of the mountainside for Angel and panic overrode his chest; the girl was nowhere to be seen. He scouted up the road to the Bunker and he couldn’t see her there either. Lawrence convinced himself she was under the cloaking device and was fine, that was until movement caught his attention in his peripheral vision. Over to the nearest crater, he saw the dirt shift on the ground.

"No... You stupid girl," Lawrence cursed under his breath.

With wide eyes he watched in dread as the ground shifted towards him, footsteps were printed on the ground, but there was nobody to accompany them. Lawrence cursed when he felt her presence beside him. Dirt avalanched onto his chest as she laid in the crater next to him. The girl switched the clocking device off and appeared beside him, her eyes shining bright and her knees covered in dirt.

“What are you doing?” he snarled at her.

“Saving you!” she hissed back with equal hostility.

Lawrence gripped his arm, blood seeping through his clenched fingers. Faintness was already creeping over his mind.

“Wait here.”

“No! Angel! No! Get back here!” He reached out to hold her in place, but she moved faster than he anticipated. She reactivated the clocking device, and all he snatched was thin air and another close miss with the sniper's bullet.

Lawrence used his good arm to dig deeper into the crater and lodge his shoulder into the hole. The seconds dragged on, Lawrence shut his eyes praying he wouldn’t hear another gunshot in the distance. Yet the night remained silent, not even Rakks could be heard. Lawrence focused on his breathing and tried to gain control of the dizziness in his head. The blood was quickly seeping through his shirt, and down his side, he needed to bandage the wound but didn’t dare maneuver in the shallow crater in which he laid.

Or else it would become a shallow grave.

An engine stalled in the distance and Lawrence was ripped from his thoughts of pain and bandages; Angel had reached the truck. The engine revved again but died, she tried again and yet again the truck failed her. A gunshot echoed across the valley, and Lawrence felt his heart pull tight. The night seemed to stall, and he wanted nothing more than to peep over his dirt wall.  
The truck gave another rev, and this time it didn’t fail her. The bandit truck and its ridiculous turbo engine roared to life if the gunshots hadn’t woken up the entire valley then that surely did.

Lawrence flung himself from his dirt bunker and sprinted head on for the truck. Gunshots rang out, and the dirt either side of him exploded from the impacts. His shot arm throbbed in pain as he pumped it to encourage his legs on. Another bullet tore so close to him he felt the heat radiate through his jacket.

“Scoot over, kiddo!”

Angel hastily climbed over into the passenger side as Lawrence threw himself into the truck, he swung the door close only to find it was too bent out of shape to seal shut. Ignoring his seatbelt, he put the truck into gear and threw his foot onto the peddle.

Dirt flew up behind the vehicle, Lawrence looked over his shoulder and reversed the car out of the ditch that had claimed it. Satisfied they were in the clear he sped onwards, changing gears as the truck pushed its limits. He didn’t stop for anything, and Angel yelled at him as he hit a skags den. They breached the edge of no-mans land and sped on into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! they're always a special treat to read :) I'm glad someone is enjoying my head-canon lol
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
> 


	7. Becoming Jack Part I

Lawrence had been shot with a sniper once before, it hurt like hell then, and it hurt like hell now. The first time was years ago, one of the first - and thankfully - unsuccessful assassination attempt against his life, no, Jack's life. 

Lawrence was visiting Opportunity overseeing the construction of some ludicrous building dedicated to Jack’s achievements. His face had only just healed from the mark of the vault and he was more than keen to escape Helios and Jack’s watchful eye.

The culprit of the shot was only a marginally better sniper than the one from Brick’s camp; the bullet had missed his head and gone above his collarbone. One quick fast travel back to Helios and a week intensive care saw him back on his feet. That was his first, but unquestionably not his last Eridium treatment.  

* * *

“Jack, how’s it lookin?” the real Jack called to him over his echo-comm.

Lawrence bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from retorting at the use of the name. Yes, he’d sworn to himself he’d accept being Jack, never again did he want to suffer like he did with the mark of the vault. However, the name left a sour taste in his mouth and only with a focused mindset could he hide his disgust. Lawrence bit his tongue harder and let the moment pass. 

“The statues have been commissioned to our specifications,” Lawrence replied as he looked down at the spec sheet in his hand. 

The dimensions, weights, and costs for a gold cast of Jack defending Pandora were printed on the page. Lawrence’s lip curled up, the statue looked ridiculous and as tasteless as mud.

“Swell,” Jack praised, before his tone went south, “next find that lead engineer for me and shoot in him in the face, but do it somewhere, where it won’t make a mess. I don’t want his brains ruining my white paving.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes at Jacks violent request, he didn’t expect an explanation, yet it turned out Jack was in a forthcoming mood today.

“I’ve been calling him all morning, and the guy has taken off to see his sick mother or something. Anyway, handle that for me, better yet shoot the mother first see if that brings him back to work if not, well double murder is better than regular murder!”

Lawrence threw his head back and held onto a groan.

Jack continued to ramble off a list of tasks that may or may not have involved additional violence, yet the double had already tuned out and just mumbled ‘yes, sir’ over and over into the comm.

The background noise of grinding metal, hammering, and construction workers giving commands to loaders seemed distant. Lawrence abruptly stopped his inspection of the construction site, he tilted his head as he realised how very alone he was on the base. The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall, and his eyes narrowed as he scouted the area. 

Something felt off, he tried to explain it to Jack but to no avail.

“Jack wait-”

“Don’t ever cut me off kiddo,” Jack’s voice was dangerously low, but Lawrence paid it no mind. He paced around the corner to check the perimeter only to find no one there as well.  

Where is my security team? Was there a shift change?

As Jack was giving him grief for the interruption, Lawrence swivelled on the spot, arm reaching for his gun.

He didn’t hear the shot echo out, but he felt his head collide with the concrete. There was a sickening thud as he was thrown to the ground and a ringing erupted in his ears. He emitted a gurgled cough and reached for his neck, crimson painted his fingertips. Lawrence shifted his head to see his comm had fallen to his side, too winded to grasp it he just listened to Jack’s continued yelling.

Slowly he strived his muscles forward to reach the comm, the effort needed to stretch his arm out registered him to the pain. He let out a long yell and hissed as his looked down at his chest. The bullet wound was too high, but he could see the blood sticking to his undershirt. He let out another groan as he successfully reached the echo-comm and called the loaders to his side, the nearest loader jumped from a rooftop just in time to cop a second bullet for him. Then a second, and third loader came until he was surrounded by a team of metal who protected him from the onslaught.

Wearily, he held the echo-comm up and was thankful Jack hadn’t disconnected the call, with a bloodied hand he switched on the video feed.

Jack’s eyes were sharp and his teeth bared as he yelled at him for being unresponsive before his eyes widened as he realised Lawrence’s condition. The look of shock quickly changed into something new, a look Lawrence had never seen on Jack, his mouth was agape, and his expression softened for the first time. Jack opened his jaw wider to speak but nothing came out yet he did draw in a sharp breath of air.

“How...” Jack spoke face still flustered, yet that small ounce of concern was quickly thrown aside.

“What happened!?” Jack barked at him for answers, “what have you done to yourself!?”

All Lawrence could do in reply was cough blood onto the screen before he rested his head back on the ground. He could hear voices yelling in the distance, you could practically smell panic in the air. The edges of his vision were blinded by dark spots, soon it consumed him and then there was nothing. 

* * *

Handsome Jack was indestructible, Handsome Jack was a hero who couldn’t be taken down, Handsome Jack could survive a bullet and return to work that day!

These were the news reports which had circled all over the network the past week, while Lawrence laid in bed recovering from the failed assassination attempt. The real Jack claimed the glory and Lawrence had been given a toxic combination of drugs that were definitely going to give him grief once he was off them.

Lawrence peered his eyes open, his muscles felt heavy and stiff as he turned his head to look at the pale purple IV bag above him. The Hyperion doctors had explained that a small dosage of Eridium would accelerate the healing process, something about side effects were glossed over. Not that he had any choice in the matter, his body belonged to Jack, all rights waived long ago.

He’d been told by a thin doctor with a stiff smile that he was being discharged today yet was still required to take frequent smaller dosages of the Eridium for another ten days.

Lawrence hadn’t fully registered the room he was in, he knew he was someplace new, but the drugs had practically held him immobile up to this point. Propping himself up on his arms he craned his neck to inspect his new surroundings. The walls were adorned with marbled black wallpaper, that disinfectant hospital smell wasn’t in the air, and the quilt covers were decorated in a splashed yellow and black pattern. He must have been moved to an executive suite in the hospital as he was evidently not in the ICU anymore. 

Lawrence let out a low sigh, more akin to a growl and run a hand along the bridge of his mask. He was forbidden to remove it, even if he were recovering in hospital. A grooved wooden door - unusual for Helios - with a notable glass handle turned, Lawrence's hands dropped from the mask in time to witness the door swing open and reveal Handsome Jack.

Lawrence's blood turned to ice, and the heart monitor beside him revealed his fright with erratic beeping. He drew his face up in a snarl before turning away, his cheeks were flushed red.

Jack just snorted at his reaction but remained in the doorway.

His employer had never come to visit, even when Lawrence was recovering from the burn on his face, so why was he here now?

“I needed to see my favourite double.” Jack seemly read his mind and gave Lawrence a weak answer in return.

Lawrence couldn’t identify the hitch in his tone, is he mad at me for getting shot? Most likely yes, Jack saw Lawrence’s body as an extension of his own any scar or damage to it was damage to his propriety.

Jack lingered in the doorway and stared at Lawrence intently, there was an unmistakable glint in his eye that caused Lawrence's chest to compress. Jack bared his teeth as he offered Lawrence a toothy smile before walking over to help himself up on the bed.

“How are you feeling” Jack queried flatly, his eyes trailed off Lawrence over to the purple IV bag above his bed.

“Good” he replied, his voice was as tight as his chest.

Lawrence hadn’t seen Jack face-to-face in some time, but his sharp features were still the same, always on edge and just a moment away from revealing a maniac laugh or violent rage. Most of their conversations were through comms, there really wasn’t much of a point to a double if they were in the same place at the same time.

“I’ve come to welcome you to your new home,” Jack continued in the same flat tone.

Lawrence just let his mouth hang open as he stared back at Jack.

“Don’t look like that, I don’t wear expressions like that” Jack’s voice somewhere between annoyance and amusement. 

Lawrence shut his mouth, “Where am I being moved to?”

“You’re already here pumpkin,” Jack swept his arm towards the doorway. 

This time Lawrence kept his jaw clamped shut, but his eyes still widen in shock, was he going to be living in the hospital?

Jack propped himself off the bed and walked up to Lawrence's side with the IV. Lawrence hadn’t been in close proximity to Jack for a long time, not since the wretched man had seared his face open. There was something different to his composure, Lawrence noticed his clothes were slightly more creased, that he wasn’t wearing his cologne and his hair was more oily than usual. Jack looked like a man trying to maintain his upkeep while not sleeping in days. He may have been able to fool others, but it was Lawrence job to notice all the subtle changes in his composure. Frankly, he looked like man unravelling. Curiosity bubbled up, what had him so run down? Lawrence didn’t dare ask, among many other questions.

Jack ignored Lawrence’s stare and moved firm hands towards Lawrence's arm. It took more effort than he’d cared to admit to not flinch from Jack’s touch. With confident and swift movements Jack dislodged the IV and removed the heart monitor from his hand. 

Despite holding back the previous retraction to Jack touch, Lawrence wasn’t prepared for Jack to reach for his chest, this time he did jolt back into the pillows.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Lawrence mentally cursed for stuttering in front of Jack.

Jack just smirked at his reaction and Lawrence continued to fumble his words in protest as Jack reached for him. He pulled down Lawrence’s grey tee to reveal the bandages against his collarbone. Jack’s touch was gentle, but Lawrence wasn’t fooled, Jack’s ability to switch between tenderness and rage was impeccable. He removed the bandages with care and discarded them to the side. Lawrence quickly caught on what he wanted to know and bit down on his tongue and prayed the sniper wound had not left a scar; it had.

The tenderness in Jack was gone, his mask screwed up in a scowl, and his voice dropped to the same low pitch he used when violence was about to occur. 

“Look what they did us” he seethed.

Lawrence pushed further back into the pillow in surprise, those had not been the words he’d anticipated. If anything he’d expected Jack to go into a fit of rage, cursing him for wounding his body.

It was Lawrence’s turn to ignore the other man’s gaze, he tucked his head as he attempted to see the mark on his neck. Unable to do so, he traced his fingers over the freshly healed wound; careful to avoid Jacks hand which still rested nearby. 

Who had shot him? How had the security team failed? But Lawrence didn’t dare press the matter. If any fault had fallen on him and he reminded Jack of it, then it would send Jack into one of his blind rages. This quietly spoken enraged Jack was unnerving, but it seemed to be fueled by the perpetrators and not him, so Lawrence didn’t push his luck. 

Lawrence slowly shifted his gaze towards Jack and his bi-coloured eyes met his, Jack’s face was void of warmth as his eyes bore into him. After some time his employer finally leaned away from the bed and Lawrence let out the tiniest sigh of relief as he reclaimed his personal space. Yet, a shudder overcame his spine, and Lawrence felt his muscles ake and his stomach turn, most likely from Jacks unwanted attention, or so he thought.

“That's the Eridium leaving your system,” Jack explained without an ounce of sympathy. 

“Feels awful,” Lawrence grumbled.

He rubbed his neck before another shiver racked his body, it felt like a hangover that had gone out of the ballpark.

“Get up, and I’ll show you how to administer your Eridium treatment.”

Jack left him to his own devices as Lawrence heaved himself off the bed. Only to realise how vulnerable he was, dressed in a simple tee and sweatpants, Lawrence didn’t feel the epitome of confidence. Lawrence stepped down on shaky legs before halting and stretching out, he didn’t want Jack to witness him walking out in such a weakened state. Once he was comfortable that he'd regained some control and strength he gingerly stepped towards the exit. 

Lawrence was met with a long hallway, the walls decorated with paintings, the ground a thick plush black rug and warm low hanging lights lined the roof. This was absolutely not the hospital ward. His eyes trailed down the hall, closed doors to every side, Lawrence tried to keep his breathing in sync, but dread was taking over; where was he?

He could hear someone at the very end of the hallway - assuming it was Jack - Lawrence stalked towards the noise. Upon reaching the end of the hall, he took a turn to the right and found himself in a shorter passage which opened up to a vast room. Jack was in the kitchen rummage through a freezer, Lawrence's heart raced as fast as his thoughts.

Was this Jack’s apartment? Was this where he was going to be living?!

“I’m living with you!?” Lawrence blurted out.

Jack just snorted before replying, “Don’t get too eager, no, you have your own apartment through there.”

Jack waved a hand towards a pair of rather large glass French doors, a smaller lounge or waiting room? Sat on the other side and beyond that another pair of French doors which revealed a room identical to the one he was standing in. Lawrence would later find out that they literally had mirror apartments adjoined down the center with the same entrance. 

Lawrence took a few hesitant steps into the kitchen before walking towards the french doors. The living room beyond was vast, grand, everything was marble and covered in gold accents. A beautiful set of royal blue upholstered couches overlooked a sleek entertainment system, the kitchen had a wide island bench, and Lawrence felt his heart flutter in excitement. A decent cooking space was the most critical element to any kitchen, not that he had time to cook, but the thought still brought him some small joy.

Lawrence bit his lip, he had perfectly acceptable quarters only a few levels below Jack, although nowhere near as grand as this and he certainly didn’t have his own private medical room. Jack was humming as he rummaged through the kitchen and Lawrence took it as a sign that his mood had improved, rubbing his hands together he took the opportunity to ask a question or two.

“Why move me here?” He asked slowly.

“Cause Kiddo, to be perfectly honest you gave me quite the fright”

“What?” 

Jack doesn’t get scared, it must be all talk, an act.

“Nearly lost you down on Opportunity, can’t have anything like that happening again.” Lawrence could not dismiss the warning in his voice.

“I figured here, I can keep a closer eye on you. Maybe you’ll even learn something yourself, improve that heinous impersonation of me you do.”

Lawrence crossed his arms, he couldn’t help but retort back, “Fooled your workers and more importantly your assassins.”

“Our assassin's,” Jack corrected, “it’s just you and me now.”

Lawrence rubbed the back of his neck and held down the lump in his throat. Athena and Aurelia were long gone, even the damn claptrap had survived and buggered off. He wondered where Athena was now, had she made it back to Janey? Jack had gone on for days about the assassination squad he sent after her. 

“Before you run off and explore come over here,” Jack called to him.

Lawrence turned and dragged his feet over to Jack, who had pulled out several vials of a very faint purple substance; Eridium.

“One every day for three days, then two thirds, one third, got it?”

Lawrence nodded, and Jack pushed the vials towards him along with a syringe.

If his stomach weren't already empty, he was sure the contents of it would be all over Jack’s bench. The long silver point of the needle burned into his mind as he turned away to heave in air.

“What is it?” Jack growled.

“Can't-do needles” Lawrence groaned with his back still to Jack with his hands on his knees.

“Yes you can and you will” Jack spoke flatly. 

Despite Jacks command, Lawrence was unable to administer the Eridium himself. On the third day, Jack caught him in his kitchen dispensing the vial into his cat mug before drinking it. Jack snarled at him and called him pathetic as he held Lawrence down on the bench and shove the needle into his arm -missing a few times- before landing in a vein. 

* * *

By the end of the week, Lawrence concluded Jack had no concept of personal space.

Lawrence flew his eyes open and drew the gun he had strapped to the bedside table. With wide eyes, he stared back at the intruder in his bedroom; a shirtless Jack. His employer gave a bark of laughter as Lawrence hastily shoved the gun into his side drawer spewing apologies for nearly blasting his head off.

Jack had emerged from his walk-in wardrobe and was fighting with Lawrence’s yellow Hyperion jumper. He gave him no explanation as he fitted the jumper over his head and stalked out of the room, leaving an even wider-eyed Lawrence in bed.

The entire encounter was surreal, and Lawrence quickly learned this was not going to be an uncommon occurrence. Seeing Jack in such an exposed manner was akin to seeing your high school teacher for the first time at a bar, unquestionably uncomfortable but perhaps the start of an entirely new relationship. 

He just prayed the madman would give him some moments of privacy.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the core intro to the story is set up I'll start to introduce a few flashback scenes. Expect these every couple of chapters.
> 
> Comments are always very appreciated, thanks to those who have left one so far! Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.


	8. I'm Not Him

Lawrence winced as his adjusted to the brightness dawning through the windows. He sat up and wiped at the condensation on the glass. The landscape was drowned in red. A colour reminiscent of a drink he’d favoured on Helios; lime, gin, and cranberries. He glanced down at his hand in his lap, there was a thick scar across his right palm. Jack had slashed that mark on him from a time when he was enjoying one of those cocktails. He groaned and stretched out as if to pull the memories from his mind and body.

His neck had spent the last few hours bent at a crude angle against the cracked window screen. Thoughts of sugary cocktails didn’t linger for much longer, as a searing pain crept upon him. The pain from his arm was significantly worse, and it radiated everywhere, Lawrence let out another long groan as he shifted upright in his seat.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. "fucking, fuck."

His head was heavy, and every part of him throbbed. 

Angel was still fast asleep. Her head was buried in the surface of the seat, as she hugged her shoulders with her knees to her chest. His Hyperion sweater covered most of her, as did his baggy pants. If not for her raven black hair he could have dismissed her as a pile of clothes. He hadn’t noticed the nights cold, but frost was melting down the windows as the sun claimed the day.

Lawrence tried to reach out to her but his shot arm would not permit it, so he had to rely on vocally waking her up.

“Angel, hey!”

The girl shifted in the seat.

“When was the last time you had your medicine?”

“What?... I dunno hours ago, before you passed out,” she replied slowly while wiping her eyes.  

“You’ll need another.”

Lawrence glanced around for the cooler-bag and found it at her feet.

“Why? I don’t feel sick,” she inched away from him as he pointed to the cooler-bag.

“You will soon enough,” he grumbled in reply, “pass it here," and he indicated again to the bag.

“No."

“Angel, pass it here,” Lawrence pressed, the pain and discomfort wore his patience thin.

“You promised you’d explain everything!”

“Yeah, when we get to the safe house,” Lawrence reminded her.  

“No that's not good enough! Why are we on Pandora? Why are we in a bandit truck?! And why am I sick?!”

Her voice raised with every question she threw at him leaving him no room to answer.

“And why do you have a cybernetic eye?” Her tone sat somewhere between accusation and confusion.

“What?”

“Your eye, it's cybernetic. When did you have it implanted?”

Oh fuck. Jack had burned his face so severely he’d lost his left eye and the entire thing had to be replaced. He'd been graciously ‘allowed’ to replace it, while Jack had opted to have his a digital illusion on his mask.

Lawrence really didn’t want to break the news to her that he wasn't Jack when they were in such a vulnerable and open place. At least at the safe house, he could keep her contained until she remembered on her own, but it seemed this moment was upon him sooner than he liked.

“I’m not Jack,” Lawrence admitted his tone colder than he intended.

“What?! Of course, you are.”

“I’m not your Dad,” he shrugged.

“Yes, you are. You're not wearing a cloaking device.” Angel scoffed while looking him up and down. 

Lawrence sighed, “I’m not him, you don’t remember yet, but you will.”

She just screwed her face up at that, “If this is your idea of a Father and Daughter road trip then it's terribly planned out.”

“It's best we just drive.”

The engine purred to life without resistance. Lawrence grunted as he leaned forward and was forced to use his shot arm to put the car into gear.

“And you still need to take an Eridium dosage,” he asserted as they drove off from under the ledge they’d parked under.

“No,” she replied coolly. Lawrence was facing forward, yet he could practically feel her mix-match eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

He just shrugged.l “Fine, go without the Eridium then.”

Angel's eyes lost their glare and opened up in surprise, perhaps she wasn’t used to winning arguments with Jack? He leaned further back into the seat and let out a long shallow sigh, his arm needed medical attention, or it would inevitably become infected. 

_ Fuck _ .

Another mark, another scar that Jack will seek to wipe clean from him. The wound was past the saving point of a health kit (not that he had any) and was going to scar. He couldn’t stomach the thought of shooting up the Eridium despite being the only option.

If Jack was here a tube would be down his throat pumping the violet stuff into him.  

Though, he'd feel better, stronger.

Lawrence groaned again and shook his head to throw the temptation away. He was glad he had the foresight to make the girl carry the bag.

“We're not far,” he spoke before silence took them both.

* * *

 

“I think we may be in range to get some music in this thing.” He shifted the car tuner slowly in an attempt to find a channel that didn’t emit static, “What do you want to listen to kiddo?”

He called over the roaring engine, though Angel didn’t reply.

“Hey?” He took his eyes off the road to look over at his travelling companion. She was hunched up in the same position as before, yet this time she slowly rocked to the truck's movement, and shivers racked her body.

_ Great _ .

Lawrence’s eyes darted back to the road, they were so close. The safe house was no more than a few kilometres away. He couldn’t stop, this was fierce bandit country, and they’d be sitting ducks if the truck decided to stall on them. He pushed the rig on, its bullet hole exterior howling as the wind blew over it.

He was there, he could see the cactus that was shaped in a perfect trident. The truck screeched to a stop and dirt kicked up around them. The bent door was embedded into the car from when he had forcibly shut it, meaning he had to lift his knee and give it a few good kicks to see it free. He fell forward when the door finally gave, and his face kissed the dirt below. Lawrence lifted himself up with his good arm and raced over to the passenger side and pulled the door open, with the cooler-bag over his shoulder he slid his arms under the hunched up girl.

_ Not far now. _

The cactus’s prickly form blocked the entrance to a narrow path that ran up the cliff side. Lawrence knew there was no way he was getting past it with the girl in his arms and prepared himself for the incoming shock it would bring when he scraped past. He gritted his teeth as its thorns dug into his coat catching his skin. Once safely behind the security of the cactus, he paced as fast as he could manage. The path was incredibly narrow, and only a few stone steps succeeded to make the journey easier. He took the final corner and came to a Hyperion yellow iron door, with great difficulty he inputted the security code and the door graciously opened to let them slide in.

He was met with utter darkness and Lawrence ensured his feet skimmed the ground to prevent himself from tripping on anything. His shin hit what he recognised as the bed, and he lowered the girl down. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he sought out the generator and with a few good tugs (with his good arm) they were welcomed with light and power.

Lawrence sped back to Angel’s side and took the syringe and a bottle of Eridium out. He filled the entire capsule before delivering the dosage to her. The effects were immediate, and she began to stir on top of the faded linen sheets.

“You can’t skip a dosage,” he grumbled to her sleepy disposition.

She stirred restlessly over the covers before opening her eyes to meet his gaze. Her features did not yield their usual softness. Instead, her brow was knitted together, and her eyes had that wild glint that Jack possessed.

Lawrence picked himself up, ignoring the hateful glare he was receiving. He opted to check the main door instead of inquiring why she suddenly was so displeased.

Confident the door was secure he returned to pull down the med-kit from the shelf and propped himself up on the table. He'd never left a wound this long, and last time he tried to hide one from Jack the man had held him down and forcibly 'cured' him. Carefully he removed his jacket and shirt to get a clear look at the injury. His shirt clung to the dried blood, and he winced as he had to tug it free. Using a disinfectant cloth, he cleaned the wound before looking away to jam the needle in. The health-kit oozed into his skin and soon an itching sensation spread as the red substance began to stitch him back together. The aches from his long car ride slowly melted away, and for a brief moment, he felt bliss wash over him.

As he relaxed on his tabletop he peered across the room to check everything was in order. His safe house was a very narrow single room or rather shipping container, that was hidden in between two rock faces upon a hilltop. It composed of a single bed, fridge and a table. Shelving lined all the walls, filled with more cans of food and arsenal. A spare echo-comm, multiple maps of the area, binoculars and a few other travel items were tossed across the table. Lawrence’s attention returned back to the echo-comm and then to his own.

He was confident the hack he’d embedded into his comm prevented Jack from tracking him, but it didn’t stop Jack from calling. He’d abandon his post and surely Jack new the fate of Nisha by now? Lawrence gnawed on his tongue, why hadn’t Jack called?

Probably too busy with his new Siren. That's all.

Angel’s feet touched down on the concrete dragging Lawrence’s eyes back to her. She sat up, eyes darting to every corner of the room.

“Had me worried for a moment,” he called over to her yet, she remained unresponsive.

Her vivid blue and green eyes settled on him, and her jaw clenched tight.

“Angel?”

“You…” she heaved a hiss through clenched teeth, her eyes were void of warmth.

“What?” Lawrence tilted his head and heaved himself off the table.

Angel stood up from the bed with her hands grasped tight and knees bent.

“You did this.” Contempt was slick in her voice.

He took a few steps back away from the enraged Siren as her arm lit up through the jumper. Her tattoos emitted flecks of light through the well worn yellow material. Blurring as she shook with rage.

He raised two hands up in self-defence. “Angel, what's wrong?”

She drove her hand forward and tensed tight. The tattoos became a vivid white, and it momentarily blinding him. That was before the pain kicked in. Lawrence roared in agony as his left eye burned from within its socket and his vision went red.

“So how did you get that cybernetic eye?  _ Dad _ ,” her voice was barely audible but distinctly cold and hollow.

“Angel what the hell?!”

“It's not all hardware, a complex thing like that needs software to function,” she drawled as Lawrence’s eye continued to burn. “Did you forget what  _ I can do? _ !”

“Angel he burnt away my real eye!” Lawrence desperately tried to explain.

“I remember everything,” she hissed “You had me chained up like a dog, pumping me with Eridium to fuel your damn precious key. One vault wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough! You needed more!” She seethed with anger and Lawrence clutched at his pale green eye as it rolled uncontrollably in its socket.

“Angel! I’m not Jack! Remember I told you! I’m not him!” Lawrence's voice was going hoarse as he pleaded with her to remember. His hand rested on the table to support himself, the burning in his eye rendered him weak.

“We fled the bunker because the Vault Hunters found me! They tried to save me! But you wouldn't let them! You just couldn’t let me go!”

“Angel, I’m sorry! I’m not him!”

“Carting me around, pumping me full of the Eridium so I can still charge your key!”

“I was trying to-”

“Enough!”

She thrust her hand forward, and the pain reached a new limit. Lawrence couldn’t stand anymore, and with rasped breathing, he lowered himself to the floor. Angel paused for a moment before she threw the door open and rushed out into the Pandora sun.

He jerked his head up in time to witness the door closing behind her.

“Angel!”

He heaved himself up of the floor. Cursing loudly as his healing arm protested to the weight being forced on it. stumbling forward he shook his head to set his vision straight. Lawrence raised a hand to hover over his eye. He could move it, and the sensation of looking around was still there, but everything was black like it had been disconnected from his brain.

He should've known her memories would have eventually come back. He’d hoped he’d have more time to ease the girl into it.

Lawrence grimaced as his remaining eye met the harsh Pandoran sun, he raised a hand to shadow his view.

“Angel!” He called again. “I’m not him! I’m not your Dad, ok? I didn’t do those things to you!”

But his call was left unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel standing up for herself gives me life.
> 
> I've also written the first 77,000+ words, and every chapter has been planned out, so get ready for more angst, because there's a lot of it. I'll update weekly and hopefully, I have enough content to get me through the first semester of uni, as that's always a major time killer. 
> 
> As always comments are very much appreciated, thanks to those who have left one so far, you are the best! Reminder: this story hasn't been beta read, don't hesitate to point out mistakes/typos. It's my first fic, so still lots of learning to do!
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.


	9. Trio of AI

Lawrence laid patiently on the ground, a well worn woven matt protected him from the dirt, and a scarf covered the back of his neck to shield him from the sun. Both hands firmly grasped his sniper, and with his working eye, he watched the gorge below. Two cycles had passed since Angel had run off, if she was as stubborn as her father then she wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. He hoped she came to her senses before she died from exposure.

_ She’ll come back. _

Lawrence’s eye caught movement, and he adjusted his sniper, only to see two skags fighting it out. The alpha tore down a runt and devoured its corpse with little effort. Bored with the blood show he switched his attention back to the bandit camp on the horizon. It was the very encampment Nisha, and he had cleared out almost a year ago. Jack had sent them on some crusade to hunt more parts for the Gortys project, yet all they found was screaming meatheads and bullets piercing their shields. 

That battle had been anything but swift and clean, they'd taken a beating, but they conquered in the end. The bandits may have had the numbers, but they outgun them and out skilled them. He remembered the high from battle and them both cursing Jack for missing out on the fun, the bloodshed, and then...

Lawrence felt his cheeks flush at an afterthought and he dismissed it as the sun burning his face. 

A shrill call from his Echo snapped him away from thoughts of Nisha. 

It was most likely Angel calling to apologise and wanting to return, Lawrence reasoned. Without looking at the device, he slammed a hand down on the comm. Lawrence expected Angel's soft voice requesting to come back; instead, he got her Dad.

“Sup princess, where you at?” Jack’s spoke in a light and casual manner which caught Lawrence off-guard.  

“Sniper practice.”

“Hmm, kay,” Jack replied in an incredulous tone, “put me through to one of the Digi-Jacks, I want to chat face-to-face.”

Nisha’s consistent pestering regarding Jack’s lack of battle experience resulted in Jack making a few upgrades to his watch. Lawrence could patch Jack in, allowing him to fill in as one of the digi-structs all while safe up in Helios. It wasn’t precisely what Nisha had in mind, yet it soothed her temper whenever Lawrence could call Jack for her on the battlefield. There was no way in hell he was going to summon them now. 

Lawrence sighed with mild exasperation and removed his eye from the scope. He glanced down at his arm at the faint tan mark from where he once wore his watch. It had been sitting in his gear-chip for some time. Lawrence grounded his teeth at the thought of seeing the digi-jacks, but the judgment was quickly shaken away. 

No, Nyx and Crake are not Jack.

"You there Timtams?" Jack queried, annoyance crept into his voice. 

“Can’t really talk right now.”

“Great,” Jack seethed, “Well, you’re gonna talk, see the funny thing is that, I sent Nisha to come get ya, but you know she seems to be off the grid as well.”

“Get this, the last guy she was seen with was ME!?” Jack exclaimed the tremor in his voice was unmistakable.

“But it couldn't have been me as I’ve been up here grieving over the death of my daughter who you failed to protect.”

“Seeing as Angel is dead. I thought I’d take a leave of absence,” Lawrence replied.

“Don’t you ever say her name, goddammit, don't you dare. Damn, I’m going to enjoy ripping your lungs out,” Jack’s voice remained taunt with an impending rage. 

“See that's exactly what I thought you’d say,” Lawrence drawled, “so, how about you calm down a bit and check in with me when you're ready to not kill me?” 

“Timmy, did you actually kill my girlfriend?” Jack was barely audible, if he spoke any louder, he’d overflow the dam and sweep the world away in his rage. “Cause honestly, that's kinda pissing me off,” he continued, voice scratchy with emotion.

Here it comes, Lawrence rolled his eyes before prepping his lie to Jack, “she betrayed us,” Lawrence asserted.

“YOU KILLED! MY! GIRLFRIEND!”

The dam broke. 

“YOU SHOT HER IN THE GODDAMN FACE!? WHY?! THE FUCK! DID YOU SHOOT HER IN THE FUCKING FACE?! WHY-”

The conversation was over, once Jack was on his rampage there was no point arguing. Lawrence put the echo-comm on mute and let the other man vent his outrage in silence. 

With another heavy sigh, Lawrence rolled over on his matt and look up at the Highlands sky. He closed his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, it was silent. Taking him out of that tranquillity was his echo, it vibrated against the gravel. Lawrence reached over and held it up against the sun, shading his face so he could read the notifications. 

_ JACK: did you put me on mute?! _

_ JACK: YOU GODDAMN SHIT, YOU DID! _

_ JACK: TIM!? _

Lawrence tossed it to the side and reasoned he’d deal with Jack later. He raised his arm to give his working eye a break from the blinding light and his gaze focused once again on his wrist and the absent digi-struct watch. Lawrence’s eyes narrowed as he considered his two digital companions, had they missed him? They hadn’t seen him in months. After Jack sent him to the Bunker he’d been so furious, he couldn’t stand the sight of another Jack and had kept his watch locked away in his gear-chip.

Lawrence moved his arm down and propped himself up on his elbows, his shot arm tinged with a dull throb as his weight was pushed onto it. Once sitting comfortably upright he accessed his gear-chip and retrieved the watch, its cold metal surface fell into his waiting hand. Before he could change his mind, Lawrence swiped the watch’s interface with his thumb.

Pixel’s erupted from the watch, purple at first until the two colours separated to form a younger magenta and cyan Jack.

“Sir?” the magenta badass spoke his tone as flat as the expression he gave him, “everything ok?”

They didn't need to call him 'sir' any more, or 'Jack', but Crake the badass AI was still set in his ways.

“Ah, yeah,” Lawrence replied, "everything is dandy... Just great."

Crake’s magenta arms crossed as he considered Lawrence for a moment.

“Why are you on the ground?”

“Oh, sunbaking?”

Nyx, the cyan AI, snorted, “need us to rub oil on your back, or would that be all  _ boss _ ?” 

Nyx turned away from him, and Lawrence didn’t need to see Nyx’s face to know the cyan AI was irritated. 

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t called on you both...in some time,” Lawrence admitted.  

“It's been three months, twelve days, 6 hours-” Crake attempted to inform him before Lawrence cut him off. 

“Ok! I got the point!”

“Sooooooooo, how’s it been?” Lawrence queried them.

“We cease to exist when we’re in the watch, so nothing has  _ ‘been _ ,’” Crake asserted. 

“Ok, I’m sorry!” Lawrence blurted out to them both.

“Things between Jack and I got a little complicated. I spent some time alone and honestly, was just too pissed to see you both, ok?”

Nyx subsequently turned back to face him a wide smirk on his face, “sorry to hear, did your boyfriend find a hotter double?”

“Fuck off Nyx,” Lawrence replied without any malice.

Crake just rolled his eyes.

Nyx most closely resembled Jack pre-helios’s attack, maybe even pre-second wife? His sass levels were damn awfully high, and he had the attitude to match, but his tendency for cruelty was lessened. Lawrence was just glad Crake didn’t follow suit in the sass department, the magenta hologram was characterised by Jack’s older personality traits; more informative and hostile. He could become quite a handful in the heat of battle as sometimes he didn’t know when to quit.

The roar of an engine drew Lawrence's attention away from the two digital Jack’s. The bandit truck - recognisable by the sound - passed on below. Dust kicked up forming an orange cloud, and Lawrence clenched his eye shut as the wind blew the dirt overhead. The truck had a trailer attached to the back, if you could call it that, it was a bunch of chains attached to a metal sheet. The trailer caused sparks to fly when it made contact with the odd rock or two, but that wasn’t what caught Lawrence’s attention, it was the Constructor chained on top of it.

Lawrence rolled over and brought his scope to his eye, he followed the truck as it reached the bandit camp ahead. Bare chests, masks, and screeching excuses for humans crawled from the compound like ants. 

Like flies to the dead, the bandits ran towards the Constructor to claim a piece. Lawrence watched a bandit dig a crowbar under the Constructors metal skin, turning it, so it now faced Lawrence.

The red eye of Felicity stared back, the Constructor was still alive.

Lawrence threw himself to his feet, only to take a few sickly steps back from the edge of the cliff. He dismantled his sniper and flung it over his shoulder and called to his digital companions.

He knew some part of the AI he'd met on Elpis was still in there. With that knowledge, he couldn't let her be torn apart by the savages below.

“Fancy a rescue mission, that may or may not involve killing a lot of bandits?” 

Both of the digital Jacks looked at one another in unison, before turning their attention to Lawrence. 

“Sure.”

“Only if it involves killing bandits,” Nyx grudgingly accepted.

“Oh, I think it will.”  

* * *

Lawrence kept as low as he could, the sand dunes provided decent cover. However, the bandit camp was on a hill embedded into the cliffside. Their position gave the bandits the upper hand, but Lawrence also had the advantage as he reached for his cloaking device.

Or so he thought, Lawrence, cursed when he remember Angel had run off with it. 

"Nyx I need you to make a decent distraction on the west end of the camp, Crake will provide cover for you."

"What kind of distraction?" Nyx gave Lawrence a sly wink.

"The kind that distracts bandits; guns, and fire. Sorry but, dressing in drag and doing the hula isn't going to cut it."

Nyx gave Lawrence an exaggerated pitiful look. Crake appeared ready to slap some sense into his digital brother. Yet, they both wordlessly raced away in a burst of pixels. Lawrence prepared to follow suit, he would need to wait until the fire fighting started before making his intrepid dash towards the camp's entrance. 

Nyx gave a shrill and eye-rolling call to the bandits, "oh boys!" 

That got them started; fire and gunpowder exploded into the wind. 

Lawrence leapt down from his cover, his shield took a few hits though he kept moving. The bandit's gate and the tower would provide him with protection, he stormed forward and threw his back against the reinforced wall. Confident that no guards would be able to shoot him from above Lawrence turned and threw a grenade against the gate. It exploded with all the power a Hyperion grenade could offer, splinters and shrapnel were thrown out from the entrance. Lawrence leaned into the wall as far as he could to protect himself from the sharp onslaught of the shattered gate. 

Satisfied his path was clear he turned the corner and took his first kill. The bandits head split-in-two, blood painted the trucks behind the collapsed man. Another one screamed, but it was cut shot as Lawrence caught his head with a well-aimed shot. 

He dove for cover when a sizable foe emerged forward, his back leaned against the mangled frame of a truck. He could hear the heavy footsteps of the giant approaching, Lawrence peeped under the wheels and saw the bandit's feet were stained with oil. He rested on his chest and fired. The bandit lit up and ran forward, only to take another soul with him.

This was far easier than he could possibly hope for. 

A shot rattled his shield, but their bullets were useless against it, he fired back before the bandit could even reload. 

Sweat downed his brow, and his shirt was soaked through, Lawrence removed his bomber jacket and stashed into his gear-chip and waited patiently against the truck. His ears itched to hear another noise, someone else to claim, but silence ensured. 

Satisfied his work was done he strode out from his cover, bodies lined the ground, but they didn’t matter. He reloaded his gun before he searched the corpses for anything of value; nothing. Lawrence glanced at his watch, Nyx and Crake must have returned during the chaos as the timer revealed they were recharging within. 

A low hum drew his attention away from his wrist, looking up he saw the Constructor was meekly beckoning him.

“Felicity!” He called as he moved into a jog to reach her.

The Constructor could no longer hover, and half of her yellow plating had been removed, yet she was alive. The bot gave a long deep buzz upon seeing him, and she struggled to regain airborne.

“No, don’t worry about that. I’ll get you fixed up,” Lawrence huffed, still a little out of breath from the recent firefight.

Lawrence ran a hand down her side. She was damaged severely, but with the right tools he was confident, he could restore her. He knelt down beside her, so the red glow of her eye was upon him, he chuckled and pointed to his single eye. 

“Look, we’re the same now, I’ve only gone one eye too.” 

She beeped in response.

“Yeah, had a run in with Jack daughter, she's a Siren, did you know that?” Lawrence continued his one-sided conversation with the bot. He lodged a disconnected wire back into its socket, with her plating removed everything was vulnerable to the elements.

“I’m going to get you airborne so I can get you back to my place, then we’ll see about fixing you up,” Lawrence explained. 

The beep that responded was a high pitch.

Lawrence ran his hand down her side as he found her hoverboard circuit. The plating that had protected it was ripped apart, and most of the wiring was dislodge. 

“This may take some time. Can you digi-struct toolkit 1.35.” 

The bot shook for a moment, blue particles burst forward and soon after a toolbox dropped to the ground in front of her.

“Thanks. I’m sorry about this.” 

Lawrence got to work, reconnecting what was frayed and wielding back what was shattered. She wasn't in too bad of shape considering, the bandits must have wanted her parts in a functioning state. 

Lawrence stood up satisfied with his handy work, “Ok Felicity see is you can get up for me.”

The bot beeped in reply, before rebooting her hover system. A low hum thundered below her as the gravitation field was activated. A high pitched beep echoed around the camp as she lifted herself a few inches from the ground. Not as high as she could go in her fully functional state, but enough to get her back to his safe house.

“Brilliant, let's get you home,” Lawrence beamed.

“How do you know her real name,” a disembodied voice called. 

Lawrence sprang to his feet, face flushed red with the realisation his conversation hadn’t been private. His eyes darted around the camp for the source of the intruder. He raised his gun - thankfully - he held back from firing as Angel emerged behind a bloodstained truck.

“Angel?” Lawrence blurted out, face still sheepishly red. 

Her sudden appearance and in a bandit camp no less was not what Lawrence had anticipated. His eyes scanned about him, abruptly becoming aware of the bodies that littered the ground.

“How do you know Felicity?” She queried him again, her voice quiet yet stern. 

“I um… have known her for some time,” Lawrence's reply was awkward, he couldn't fathom that Jack's Siren daughter was standing in a blood-soaked bandit camp.

“Jack never called her that," she spoke absentmindedly as she cautiously approached the side of the Constructor. “To him, she was Constructor 5.46.”

Curiosity washed over him, forgetting the surprise of her reappearance. “Well, how do you know her name?” 

“We used to talk together,” Angel replied gravely. 

“What?” Lawrence's eyes widened as he looked from the Felicity to Angel.

The bot gave a low hum in agreement.

“I thought my dad had programmed in her personality, someone for me to talk with over the network. I immediately realised he’d never do anything so personally with a war machine.”

Lawrence’s hand was still resting on the side of Felicity.

“Felicity used to be much more than this…” Lawrence solemnly admitted. 

Angel responded cooly, “I suspected as much. There is substantial unexplained data in her code, data that alludes to a far higher intelligence than that of a war machine.”

“Your Dad and I found her on Elpis. Then we… moved her into this.” The words escaped his mouth so quickly Lawrence hadn’t realised how badly he needed to confess. 

“You really aren’t him, are you?” She spoke softly as her eyes lingered over him.

“I’m not Jack.”

He'd spoken those words earlier, but this time the confession seemed more real, a sickening feeling rose in his chest from the admission. Lawrence rubbed the side of his collarbone to extradite the tension. 

“We should talk,” was all she had to say and Lawrence nodded in agreement and Felicity beeped.

* * *

“So who are you?”

Angel's round face glanced up at him, as Lawrence zipped open the Eridium cooler-bag. 

“Lawrence,” he replied flatly.

Angel returned a silent glare, evidently not satisfied with his answer. 

They'd made it back to his safe house in one piece. Felicity had hovered at the back moving slowly across the sandy hillsides and Angel had lingered close to her side. The giant bot protected her from the elements. However, Lawrence suspected Angel sought the Constructors presence over his own. He wasn't at all surprised, he resembled the man who had imprisoned her. 

Trust was all but vacant on Pandora, especially between those who barely had anything to gain from one another. Getting the girl to open up was going to require patience, something he lacked after embodying Jack for so long. 

Her weary steps could have been from exhaustion or caution, maybe both. She'd spent two cycles alone in Pandora, without food or water, she must have some darn good luck. However, now they were safely guarded by walls and a roof, Angel was recovering with a bottle of water in hand and Lawrence was getting ready to administer her another dosage or Eridium. 

Her bright eyes rested on his, she was still waiting on answers to her first question. 

Lawrence rubbed his collarbone. “I’m your Dad’s double, but proper double, I don’t have a clocking device to look like him. I was...ah, surgically altered.”

“Surgically?” she raised a single brow.

“Well that and some gene modifications, they had to change my hair colour and get rid of my freckles.” 

Lawrence ran a hand through his hair, he knew it should be a copper colour, but he'd long forgotten how it looked on him. 

“He never told me about you,” Angel spoke quietly as she fidgeted with his Hyperion sweater. "He used to tell me everything."

Lawrence just shrugged and gave an apathetic reply, “very few people knew I existed. To everyone I was Jack.”

Angel's face remained dissatisfied, her lips screwed up as she contemplated his words. 

“I should've known, the scar on your face isn’t blue like his,” she said as her eyes traced across the mark.

“Yeah, Jack did regret that. Said he should have had it tattooed...after he'd burned in the mark.”  

Her eyes widened at the casual tone he took to being disfigured.

“We can probably dilute this down now with some water, or a health-kit, what do you think?” Lawrence questioned, as he swung the syringe forward and Angel gave a slow nod. 

Lawrence stood up from the stool he'd been occupying to find his med box. His movements were sluggish, three cycles of the Pandora sun turned his safe house into a miniature sauna. He was tempted to strip his shirt, but reason told him that wasn't the best idea. 

“Why did you save me?” Angel's voice was quiet as if she hoped he wouldn't hear her question. 

Lawrence stretched up to retrieve the med box from the shelf when he turned back around she was relentlessly tearing at the sleeves of his jumper. Lawrence bit his top lip, he had no experience with children, let alone teenagers. He figured honesty was the best course forward, even if it did nothing to soothe her nerves.

“Everyone thought you were dead," Lawrence looked her in the eye, "even Jack."

Angel continued to tear at the sleeves. Lawrence pulled out a health-kit and drew the red substance into the other syringe. He tossed the liquid back in forth in the chamber, so the two materials blended to a deep burgundy. 

Lawrence let out a sigh, he was exhausted, and the heat did nothing to abate his fatigue. 

"I just...saw the opportunity," he reasoned, "that's all."

Angel's eyes broke with his to stare at the floor, and her shoulders hunched in as if to shrink and hide.

“So does that mean you don’t work for him anymore?” She asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Lawrence lied, he genuinely didn’t know. 

Lawrence stepped towards the Siren who was meekly waiting on the cot. He stood in front of her and waited for her to admit him into her presence. She rolled up her left sleeve and held out her arm for him. He was swift as he didn't want to linger too close to her, the needle was in and out before she could blink.

"All done," he gave her a curt smile. 

“So what are you planning to do with me?” Angel pushed her tone to be firmer, yet she could not relinquish her timid approach.

Lawrence quickly adapted, he softened his temper and stepped back to keep his distance. “With you? Nothing. I was thinking of taking you to the Vault Hunters. If you'd like that?"

He honestly hadn't thought this far ahead. Save the girl was the plan. Then maybe use her powers to get off this planet? Or trade her with the Vault hunters for a ship? Lawrence bit his tongue at the last thought.  

Angel leaned forward, her brow creased together, and Lawrence couldn't tell if she was in disbelief or annoyed. 

“Why?” She probed. 

“I thought that’s what you’d want?" Lawrence replied slowly, he was unable to get a read on her. "Unless you want to leave?"

Angel didn’t respond. Instead, she rubbed her arm where the injection site was.

“Ok, but what do  _ you _ want?” She leaned back upright, evoking more energy than before. 

“Ah?”

Angel crossed her arms and leaned back into the wall beside the cot. 

“ _ No one _ does anything on Pandora without a price Mr Lawrence,” caution coated her voice as she eyed him carefully.

“Ah, just Lawrence," he grinded his teeth, before admitting the catch. "Get me off this planet, and I’ll get you to the Vault Hunters.”

She'd finally finished toying with her sleeves, and now it appeared another person was sitting in front of him. As if discussing terms inspired some courage into her. 

“It's a deal,” she nodded, tone firm. 

Angel raised her left hand to shake his, and he awkwardly met it with his left.

“Left-handed? Should have told me to inject your other arm,” his tone light as he gave her a short smile.

She just shrugged, “guess I'm not used to actually...doing things…”

Lawrence had nothing to say to that.

He ran a hand down the side of his face, exhaustion was clinging to his mind. His hand traced his cybernetic eye, he figured now was as good a time as any to ask for his sight back.

“Well, now that we're on more familiar terms, think you can restore my sight?” 

“Oh...sure,” despite her weariness she agreed.

Her left hand was thrown forward, and her arm lit up through the jumper. Lawrence grimaced as he felt a tingling sensation run through his veins, everything seemed to emit static before his vision flickered back.

"My thanks," he replied gingerly, still rubbing his temple.

Lawrence checked his digi-struct watch, "this cycle is nearly over, the sun may still be out, but it’s time each of us got some rest."

"But-"

Lawrence cut her off, "I'm sure you have many questions, and I'll answer them after I've rested. I don't know if Sirens need sleep, but I do." 

"We do," she grumbled back before her eyes darted around the very tiny room and Lawrence chimed in before she could ask.

"I'll take the floor, and I'm sure Felicity can stand guard."

The bot had remained silent during the entire exchange. However, she gave a high pitch beep as if to affirm she was still aware.

Angel nodded and began to curl back in on her self. Confidence was drawn out of her quicker than she could gain it. 

Lawrence let out a short groan as he relaxed against the opposing wall. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and stretched out his muscles. His recent venture in retrieving Felicity had worn him thin.

This rescue work was a tiresome business, and he just hoped their journey to the Vault Hunters was swift and painless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed the long chapter! How are you finding it? This was really tricky to write, there were so many things Angel and Tim could have discussed. Hopefully, I got the pacing and their characterisation just right. please let me know in the comments x
> 
> Also, Lion King reference, cause I'm lame. :p
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
> 


	10. Promises are Worth Shit

Lawrence had graciously allowed her to sleep on the bed while he'd used a flattened cardboard box and pile of clothes as a substitute for a mattress. Angel fidgeted in the cot, sleep wearing thin on her consciousness. This man, this doppelganger of her Dad was an enigma she couldn’t solve, never had Angel been in a position where she couldn’t find out everything she wanted about a person. He'd given her his spare echo-comm before bed, but with strong words of caution on how and what she should use it for. Most of that had been ignored, Angel knew how to silently browse the net and not leave a trace.

Yet, the echo-net had yielded no answers for her, whoever this Lawrence had been before, his history was wiped clean from Hyperion’s databases, probably from the entire network.

 _Lawrence can't be his actual name. If I knew his real name maybe I'd have more luck_ , she mused.

As promised, the not-jack had 'answered' her questions. However, the answers he did provide were mediocre at best.

_Why did you become Jack's double?_

_Money._

_Why were you at The Bunker?_

_Guarding you._

_So, it was you, the person at the Bunker who I was communicating with?_

_Yes._

_You were never very friendly._

_He shrugged._

_Did you know who I was?_

_Only that you were a Siren._

_What really made you leave Jack?_

_He remained silent._

It was like talking to a wall, a very disgruntled brick wall, who appeared to be more taken with machines and guns than the living companion in the room with him.

Her memories of the last few cycles were hazy at best after she'd fled from the man who she mistook as Jack, she'd sought shelter around the other side of the hill. She hadn't strayed more than a few hundred metres. She'd waited, hoping for a chance to steal supplies before fleeing for good. But as the Pandora sun had worn down on her and as her body had slowly succumbed to the elements the memories seemed to resurface.

He wasn't Jack.

She waited for a chance to observe him, to be sure. When he'd fled to rescue what she'd soon realised was Felicity she knew he wasn't her Dad.

Angels fists screwed up into tiny little bunches, thoughts of Jack racked her body with a sickening rage. The memories were crawling back to her, like bugs over her mind she shivered to throw them off her.

 _“I’ve pumped every fricken ounce of Eridium I’ve got into you,”_ Jacks words rang through her mind, _“WHY ISN’T IT WORKING!?”_

 _“I’m sorry, I don’t know...”_ She’d pleaded with him to no avail. She’d begged him to know what happened to her mum, to understand why she needed to be in the ‘chair’ and why he was doing this to her. Nothing ever got through to him.

_“You’re a damn Siren, one of a kind! MAKE IT WORK”_

She was a Siren and a tool to him, not a daughter and certainly not human.

Angel felt the intoxicating warmth of energy run down her arm, her powers were bubbling forward. There was too much tech in the room, too many instruments for her powers to harness. Her mind raced over all the items, two echo-coms, the Constructor, a digi-struct item, the cloaking device, gear-chips, countless guns and arsenal. It was too much.

_I won’t lose control._

Angel rolled over in her cot, she needed to focus her mind away from the devices in the room. Her arm ached at the injection site, so she let her mind register the pain. Her body still cried out for more Eridium, but those were thoughts that also needed to be suppressed.

Lawrence was tinkering away with Felicity's interface, his back to her and he was speaking low to the bot. Spying and investigating was all she'd done for the last ten or eight years, and so she couldn't help but eavesdrop on his private conversation.

“When Jack found out I’d been scavenging part of your old code he threw a fit,” Lawrence explained as he swiped a hand down the interface in front of him. The bot gave a low hum that Angel interpreted as a worried acknowledgement.

“Smart thing you did, scrambling parts of your code at the end of your files and spreading them thin across all the Constructors."

The bot beeped.

“If Jack ever realised how extensive it was he’d have rewritten you from the ground up. He was too short-sighted, always under-estimating AI,” Lawrence trailed off.

"You're right," Angel chimed in, without thinking.

Lawrence's head snapped over his shoulder, and he responded with a cool gaze, "you're awake," he acknowledged flatly.

Angel pressed her lips thin, she wasn't used to people being aware of her prying.

"What happened after Jack found out about you trying to restore her?" she questioned.

Lawrence didn't reply. Instead, he lifted himself off the floor to make for the fridge and pulled out a beer. A waste of valuable space and resources she thought.

“He destroyed what I was working on, that's all," he used the edge of his watch to pry the lid off the bottle.

Angel knew enough to know that wasn't 'all', but she didn't contend the matter.

"I could help you," she offered, "I used to talk with Felicity, and I noticed the same thing. That she was trying to rebuild herself. I never told Jack," she quickly explained as Lawrence had given her a firm look.

"How much do you know?" Lawrence's voice was low. His tone made the crawling sensation on her skin return.

Angel tugged at her yellow sleeves again, these face-to-face encounters were so much...more, than communicating through a screen. To have someone look you in the eye was unnerving, and new for her.

“Not enough for a complete picture. I...I wanted someone to talk with...So I thought if I put her back together we could be friends."

It had been one rejection after another in her life. The worst of it was her step-mother, who fled the moment she discovered who and what Angel really was. But Felicity, she'd understand, she'd know what it was like to forced into a role that you couldn't free yourself from, Felicity could be there when others hadn't. Or so Angel had prayed, she never got the chance for the AI to become part of her life.

Lawrence gazed down at her, he crossed his arms as he considered her words.

“So...how did this restoration project of yours go? Jack destroyed every I had worked on years ago.”

“I was almost done, but when Jacks demands became too much, I had to sideline her," Angel admitted.

“So this code you were collecting, do you think you could access it?”

"It lays in my old server, which is back at the Control Core. It’s not connected to any network, so it was impossible for others to hack or reach it. That's where I stored all my research for Jack and other projects for myself," Angel explained with a shallow sigh. "Jack would visit and collect it... until he had you do it for him,” she couldn't withhold the accusation in her tone.

"Right" Lawrence drawled, uninterested in the slight accusation.

"I'm going back," he asserted.

 

* * *

 

“What?! No! But Jack?” the girl all but screamed at him. He'd seen accounting interns with more bite than her.

“I can handle Jack, he won’t kill me, hurt me maybe, but Jack doesn’t like losing things that are his,” Lawrence insisted.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she replied coldly before fear retook her,  "But you can’t go back!” she implored.

The holes in his sweater we large enough to shove an arm through, she'd worn the material so thin he was sure it was going to tear at the elbows.

“If he… realises I’m still alive...I-I can’t go back to that place!" Angel threw her self off the cot onto her feet.

"Promise me you won’t go back to the bunker!” Her hands reached for his and Lawrence instinctively took a step back.

"Going back there is a fate worse than death." Angel cried at him, a tinge of guilt stirred within him.

His eyes were drawn to her left arm, which was beginning to shine through the thin yellow material. Lawrence saw the interfaces on his Echo, and the guns on the walls light up. Angel rocked forward, her arms desperately scraping at him to respond.

“Please Lawrence!”’ Her nails dug into his folded arms. His echo began to emit static, images of the bunker, purple crystals, wires flashed across its screen.

“Promise me!” her eyes were wide, tears welled in the corners.

Lawrence looked her in the eye and held a firm hand to her shoulder, “Ok, I promise,” he asserted, "I won't go back to the Bunker."

However, Angel didn’t know his promises were worth skag-shit. Tomorrow he’d set out and return to the bunker with or without her help.

_Sorry, kiddo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Booooo, Tim, stop being a dick to Angel.
> 
> As this is a short chapter, I'll make two updates this week. 
> 
> Also first Angel POV, she definitely the hardest character to write. There will be a few of these throughout the story (as well as a few Jack POV).
> 
> Thanks for the kind comments and the kudos, please let me know what you think x
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \---------------- GLOSSARY ----------------  
> AI Laws - Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.
> 
> Cycle - refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)
> 
> Gear Chip - A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.
> 
> Gear Chip Scanner - A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items
> 
> Hyperphire - Is Hyperion's patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.


	11. Becoming Jack Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A reminder that Handsome Jack is human garbage #standardwarningforhandsomejackbeinghandsomejack #eyetrauma #non-con-surgery**

Lawrence grudgingly admitted that Jack could sometimes be 'ok'.

Despite the admission, Lawrence nevertheless found himself racked with shakes and sweat every time Jack came home. He prayed the man would go straight to his apartment, that Jack would forget the evening debriefings they shared. However, Jack would find him without fail every time.

Existing beside Jack was like being wrapped in barb wire, sharp appendages were inches away from lashes out. As long as Lawrence didn’t struggle and played house-pet, then he wouldn't get hurt.

Work was still the same, Lawrence would go to Pandora and complete missions and oversee the construction of Opportunity while Jack would bark orders at him through his comm. The real change being, they now came home together, and for the first time, they regularly saw each other face-to-face. Jack would belitter him for not meeting his standards, or critique his Jack impersonation, Lawrence would stand still, mumble 'yes, sir' over and over until he'd waited out the storm that was Jack's rage and then the two would go to their separate ways.

It had been two months or so since he’d moved in and Lawrence’s impersonation of Jack was perfected every day. Living with the man gave him adequate time to observe Jack’s traits, his stance, and vocabulary (as limited as it seemed to be sometimes). Jack provided his insights on how Lawrence should look and talk, although Lawrence often found they missed the mark. Jack couldn't see past his ego; he was nothing more than a maniac wrapped up in a fine body.

Despite everything, Lawrence eventually convinced Meg - Jack’s secretary - that he was the real Jack for the first time. A triumph which surprisingly pleased Lawrence, yet Jack only dismissed it.

 _'Convince Nisha, and then I'd be impressed,'_  Jack had quipped.

Lawrence couldn’t possibly fathom deceiving the Lawbringer, he could talk the talk, but when it came down to it, he couldn't follow through with some of Jack's more hostile deeds.

Their apartments were fully equipped each with their own, gym, spa, a generously sized kitchen and pantry, a living and a rarely used dining room, medical room, two offices, three bedrooms each with ensuites and walk-in wardrobes, and a storage room for arsenal. There was no need to cross over to the other occupant's apartment, and Lawrence wouldn’t dare intrude onto Jack's space. However, Jack evidently didn’t feel the same way and would regularly come over and eat pasta all over Lawrence's lounge. This was one of those occasions.

Jack was sprawled out on the furniture his face deep in spaghetti as he flicked through the channels on Lawrence’s holo-screen. Lawrence, on the other hand, had only just returned from work and was fixing himself a drink in the kitchen. Scotch over ice, two cubes to be exact, just how Jack had it. He enquired if Jack wanted one, Jack replied with a delayed ‘no’ before returning to devouring his meal.

Lawrence let out a soft sigh before turning his attention to dinner. It was late, and the Hyperion kitchens would have closed by now. Even though they had their personal chef, Lawrence nevertheless felt it was easy enough to through some pasta together and cooking always soothed his nerves. Jack lofting around in his living room was akin to a predator approaching a little too close for comfort.

He decided to follow Jacks example and indulge in pasta. He was usually on strict no carbs diet, but he honestly couldn't lower his fat to muscle ratio anymore. Even his personal trainer said he could take a break, Lawrence just hoped that message was passed onto the real Jack. Lawrence figured it was worth the risk.

Lawrence was halfway slicing up chorizo when Jack interrupted his routine.

“Make enouff for twoo,” Jack spoke with his mouth full and with spaghetti still in his bowl.

Lawrence rolled his eyes, the man had the metabolism of a badass skag.

“Sure” Lawrence replied in a nonchalant tone which aimed to mock Jack’s enthusiasm for food. He’d already anticipated Jack would steal his meal and he'd prepped enough ingredients for two.

“Thanks, Handsome” Jack cheered as he returned to whatever terrible reality tv show he'd settled on. Lawrence grounded his teeth, the ‘thanks’ at the end was almost genuine.

With the pasta on boil and the capers and chorizo sizzling away Lawrence had a moment to sit down and enjoy his drink. He approached the couch to maneuver around Jack and sit on the other seat across the room, yet, Jack lifted his legs up indicating Lawrence could sit beside him. A first, but Jack was never a man protective of his personal space. Lawrence reluctantly obliged and sat down, and Jack threw his feet back down on top of him with more effort than needed.

You couldn’t call this intimacy nor a friendly fondness, no, Jack just loved to rile Lawrence up by encouraging him to forfeit his space. Lawrence did not reveal the discomfort he had towards the man who only six months ago seared half his face off. He bit the top of his lip and hid the action behind his glass as he took another sip.

Lawrence half expected jack to poke him with his feet, to promote more discomfort from him, but his employer seemed to be too engrossed in his drama. Apparently, a girl was screaming about her hair straightener being broken. The salty, savoury smell of pork was welcomed by his senses as it wafted to the living room, combined with the smokiness of the scotch and the comfort of the couch he could almost say he was content. A first in what seemed like ages.

The first time Jack had intruded like this Lawrence spent the entire night fumbling his words, stuttering, terrified he’d upset the madman and send him into a frenzy. Jack had laughed throughout the whole affair, thoroughly enjoying Lawrence's distress. With every visit Lawrence’s confidence spiked, and soon he was firing retorts back at his employer, even tolerating his presence; as he was now.

Despite all of this, Lawrence wasn't a fool; he knew Jack was paranoid to the core. With the unexpected departure of both Athena and Aurelia, Jack's attention on Lawrence had spiked, like a dog with a bone. Jack could claim that Lawrence was living here so that he was safe, or that he could improve his impersonation, or that he couldn't run off. Whatever the original reason was; it didn’t matter.

Lawrence had come to the smug conclusion that Jack was bloody lonely, that much was evident from his continued intrusions. Besides Nisha, the man had no one, and Lawrence suspected he'd been moved in to fill the space when his lover wasn't around.

Jack would never admit it, and Lawrence wouldn’t dare press the issue, but Handsome Jack had no allies, no one to confide with, no friends, and it seemed he was keen on making Lawrence one of them.

And for the time being, Lawrence was okay with that; he may as well keep his enemies close. As deranged and as volatile as the weather Jack may be, Lawrence was beginning to adapt to the swings and could predict when the storm was coming. He just had to wait it out.

Lawrence could have willingly spent the evening on the couch watching the shitting drama with his psychopath housemate, but the moment was short-lived.

The door to their shared entrance chimed indicating the arrival of another. Both men looked at each of quizzically. Lawrence leaned back on the couch and peered over his shoulder, his chest tightened along with his grip on the tumbler as Nisha stalked around the common room entrance.

Her golden eyes darted across the common area her hands on her hips as she sought out her lover. Lawrence turned back around, not at all keen to call her over and figured she’d discover where they were soon enough. Not surprisingly Nisha swung open the French doors and gave Lawrence a bitter smile.

She was dressed smart - a sharp contrast to her Pandora gear - a deep navy velvet dress only just hung from her shoulders. Gold chains decorated the top, and a wide split revealed her toned dark legs. Lawrence shoved his drink in front of his features to hide whatever expression his face was making. The ice from the scotch abated the hot flush on his cheeks.

“Where is Jack?” she spoke in a low command much akin to her lover's voice, yet she trailed off as her eyes lingered from Lawrence down to Jack embedded body on the couch.

She raised a thin brow, “forgot I was visiting?”

“Of course not!” Jack contested, Lawrence recognised the lie.

Jack abruptly swung his feet off Lawrence lap, taking his drink with it.

Lawrence swore, and Jack scolded him.

“Just a moment babe,” Jack waltz up to his significant other and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, before tossing what remained of his pasta into Lawrence’s sink.

Nisha had Jack hook, line and sinker; and Lawrence unquestionably knew why. She was cruel to the bone, ravished in Jack’s violent tendencies and had the body of a damn goddess.

Lawrence drifted back to the kitchen to clean away the scotch from the front of his shirt. Usually, he’d just take the damn thing off, but Nisha was staring at him like the hawk she was. He refused to meet her gaze, and this apparently irritated her as she strummed her long nails against the doorway.

Jack could be tolerable on his own. Honestly, he was just a big kid living in a frat house with too much money, too much power with a lot of anger problems. But when Nisha came into the picture? He’d become his true monstrous self; she seemed to radiate some kind of negative energy that fueled him to be at his absolute worst. Lawrence squeezed the running water out of his shirt; his knuckles went white.

Lawrence wished they’d hurry up and leave

Satisfied he’d gotten the drink out of his shirt, he let the damp material fall back onto his chest. When Lawrence looked up, Nisha was still eyeing him with that look only a predator could wield.

Lawrence promptly ignored her and turned to the stove to remove the heat from the pasta. He picked up the large pot, with the intention of taking it to the sink to drain, however sharp nails dug into his upper arm causing him to shake it and spray boiling water all over his arm. The pot crashed to the floor, and Lawrence swore as its contents washed down his legs.

Nisha’s nails dug in like talons, and her golden eyes bore into him.

“It seems you and Jack have gotten quite comfortable together,” she mused.

“That's good,” her tone did not at all indicate that she thought everything was ‘good’.

Lawrence's back stiffened, and he dug his nails into his palms to distract himself from the burning pain on his soaked leg.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing,” accusation and contempt dripped from her voice.

“Um...no?”

She stalked forward, and Lawrence embarrassingly took a step back, his shoulders hit the raised oven door.

“You’ll never replace him,” she snarled.

Lawrence gave her a wide smirk, some sudden rush of courage - probably the absence of Jack - fired him up to retort back.

“Don’t you mean, I’ll never replace you?” Lawrence sneered as he towered over her.

She struck him.

Before he could swing a punch back, she threw him against the oven door cracking the glass. Her nails hooked onto his shirt and torn it downwards revealing his scarred chest. Her sharp eyes rested on the sniper scar above his collarbone.

“A nice mark, a reminder for me to know who you really are,” she spat.

Lawrence shoved her away, “your boyfriend is waiting,” he growled as he jerked his head over her shoulder.

“Aww, you made the kitten upset” Jack cooed from the doorway as he fixed a sleek tie around his neck. The rest of him was suited up in black, pointed shoes and white dress shirt.

Nisha just scoffed, “he’ll cope.”

"Don't be mean Nisha," Jack straightened his collar, "he's one of us now." There was a warning in his voice, directed to him, that Lawrence couldn't ignore.

Lawrence anticipated for them both to talk towards him. So they could have some fun before they departed, thankfully Jack pulled his hand forward and indicated for Nisha to reach for it. She sauntered over to Jack and he moved the hand around her waist.

"You behave yourself, **_Jack_** ," Jack called to him as the two of them strode away.

Lawrence looked at the mess in his sink to the mess on the floor. Time to wake up that chef after all.

 

* * *

 

The 'honeymoon' period had to come to an end at some point.

Lawrence returned from covering a Maliwan meeting for Jack, which had gone smoothly but he was well overdue for a drink. Thankfully Jack hadn't cut alcohol from his diet, Lawrence had just passed his thirty-sixth birthday - not that anyone knew or cared - and his metabolism was going to give out eventually.

Lawrence let his mind wander back to the top shelf scotch Jack kept importing for the two of them. One of the 'many' examples of 'how well' Jack took care of him. Lawrence knawed on his tongue as Jacks words radiated through his mind.

The glass doors to his side of the floor were open, Lawrence entered his apartment expecting to encounter a Jack on his couch or rummaging through his cupboards for food. The living room was empty, Lawrence called out, but he met only silence. Jack had mostly likely visited and just left the doors wide open.

Lawrence was half way through fixing his drink when Jack stalked down his hall.

“Oh, so you are here,” Lawrence announced without looking up.

Jack strode past him and continued over to the French doors from where Lawrence had just entered. Jack jerked his head towards someone, and Lawrence's heart tore through his chest as two loaders returned back with Jack.

Lawrence opened his mouth to gain some answers, but Jack barked at him first.

“Explain this,” Jack threw down a sleek, thin black rectangle onto the kitchen bench, which Lawrence recognised as his private server, which up to this point had remained tapped to the back of a painting.

“That's…” Lawrence’s words left him as he stared at the black sever, a year's worth of code was on that device; Felicity's code.

Lawrence had discovered traces of her hidden away in amongst the bots she constructed, at first they appeared to be random; ghosts of the machine. However, as Lawrence discovered more and more the larger picture came to be, it was Felicity. She was rebuilding herself, keeping herself hidden, unmistakably she feared for her ‘life’. Hyperion would wipe her again if they got wind of her existence. Lawrence had taken upon himself to start salvaging the code.

He rubbed his thumbs into the inside of his palms, already slick with sweat.

“Don’t bother explaining, I’ve already read everything on it,” Jack drawled.

“It was encrypted,” Lawrence grounded.

“Please,” Jack smiled at him, but Lawrence was no fool. A mountain of fury was behind those masked features.

“So what were you planning to do with this champ?”

Lawrence bit his tongue; no words would convince Jack that his actions were justified. He fought the urge to duck and hide behind the bench which kept them separated.

“Don’t bore me with silence.”

“I-I was trying to bring Felicity back. Just working...on a few projects,” Lawrence started, voice wavering between fear and assertiveness.

“Need I remind you what happened when we last saw the AI? It tried to kill us kiddo,” Jack's voice was gravelly and scratched at Lawrence's ears.

Jacks hands toyed with the small black sever.

“Don’t do this Jack, we could bring her back,” Lawrence implored.

“It's cute that you think I’ll take your advice on the matter.”

And with that Jack snapped the device in half, destroying Felicity a second time.

Lawrence's hands turned into fists, and his spine shook with a rage he didn’t know he possessed. Jack tilted his head, eyes narrow as he considered his double.

“There's that look again,” Jack observed slowly.

“What?” Lawrence spat.

“You gave me that exact look after all that happened,” Jack’s hand gestured to scars that lay behind Lawrence's mask.  
  
“Can’t imagine why,” Lawrence sneered.

His fury fueled his courage to fire back, “have you ever seen it yet? What you did,” Lawrence hissed.

“You know what? I haven’t had a good look at it!” Jack beamed and waved a hand for the two loaders to approach.

Jack gave another wordless command, and the loaders obeyed. The larger of the two fixed rough metal 'hands' onto Lawrence's shoulders and pressed him down to his knees. Lawrence groaned through gritted teeth as Jack’s security held him in place. Vivid images of his visit to Jack's office swam to the forefront of his mind. Jack’s hand snagged him by the chin, and their blue and pale-green eyes met.

“Let's see,” Jack's voice was silvery but tainted with a ferocity that made Lawrence's hands clench even tighter.

Jack gently placed his hands on the side of Lawrence's head, and with a few light flicks, the mask was removed.

“Damn that is a handsome mug,” Jack glowed, “too bad for the whole vault punching thing.”

Lawrence refused to turn away.

“Let me ask you something, do you even know what I burned your face?”

Lawrence bit down and swallowed whatever witty remark was on the tip of his tongue. Lawrence would not give Jack the satisfaction; he won't answer Jack's pointless rhetorical questions. Silence always angered Jack, normally Lawrence would do anything to diminish this storm, but not this time.

“You’re doing the silence thing again,” Jack seethed.

“I wanted you to stop it with the flaccid hero act. I wanted you to stop staring at me with that grave inducing stare of yours,” Jack’s hand waved to the side of Lawrence's face, “see, you’re doing it right now!”

Jack sighed with exasperation, “Goddammit, you obviously didn’t learn the first time.”

Lawrence kept his face fixed on Jack, no matter what Jack had planned for him, he wouldn't beg this time.

“I can’t mess up that gorgeous body of yours, not again. Honestly, the first time was really hard for me.”

Lawrence’s heart raced, and his blood rushed in a fury, _hard on you?!_

“So let’s see...what to do...” Jack clicked his tongue, “Ah here we go!”

Jack digitised a health-kit from his gear chip and swung the long needle back and forth. Deliberately making sure it caught Lawrence's eye. He pressed his index finger down and emptied the syringe against Lawrence's knees. Sweat trickled down Lawrence's spine, his eyes never leaving the large needle bestowed in Jack’s firm grasp.

“You hold him down, and you hold his face, he cannot move,” Jack stressed to the two loaders.

Jack bent down and propped himself up on one knee and rested both hands on top of Lawrence's shoulders, the syringe leaned to the side of Lawrence’s face.

_I won’t beg._

“Is he still?” Jack’s voice low as he queried the two guards, they replied with short beeps.

“I need you to listen very carefully, but before that, I’m going to make sure I have your attention.”

Jack gave Lawrence a toothy grin, “damn your left eye is ghastly white, so it can’t be that one,” Jack whispered to himself.

_I won’t beg._

Jack’s hand readjusted Lawrence’s face, so his blue eye was in line with the madman, “if you move, it's on you,” Jack muttered.

_I won’t beg. I won’t beg. I won’t do it._

Jack raised his hand and lined the point of the needle up to Lawrence's eye. Lawrence’s stomach turned, a sick sense of relation crept over him. The sweat that had run down his back had drenched him, and his hands dug so deep into his palms he could feel the sweat sting the cuts. Oh god, the silver point of the needle divided what limited vision he had left. He couldn’t grasp how close the tip of the needle was, but every part of him screamed for it to move away.

“Careful now,” Jack spoke to himself as he pressed the eye of the needle into his cornea, and Lawrence screamed through a clamped shut jaw.

“Are you listening to me?” Jack's was voice low and dripping with venom.

Lawrence failed to reply, and whatever had suppressed Jack's rage finally snapped.

“ARE YOU!?” Jack roared into Lawrence's face, the needle jittered from the clamour.

Lawrence screamed through his teeth, the needle jabbed at something it should have, and his vision was stained red. Lawrence didn’t dare move, not even to open his mouth to speak, and so he let out a short whimper in reply.

“Good, now we can talk," Jack almost cheered but his grip on the needle and the back of Lawrence's neck did not falter.

Jack pulled him closer, penetrating the needle further into his eye socket.

“You’re too important to me, too expensive and bloody too much of a hassle to replace, you understand don't you?"

Jacks nails dug into the back of Lawrence's neck; he knew it drew blood as the sweat stung the cuts.

"You’re far too precious to me."

Jack attached himself to Lawrence as if he was about to lose him in that very moment.

"So, I don’t want you investing your time and energy into any more of these little side projects.”

Tears were welling in the corner of Lawrence's working eye.

“Distract yourself again with these pointless endeavours, and I’ll pay Mrs Lawrence or Miss Springs a personal visit. You know what? I'll go see both of them. But I won’t shove a needle down their eyes, no it’ll be an ice pick. Never performed a lobotomy, but there's always a first, right?”

Lawrence swallowed down the fist-sized lump in his throat and gave another whimper as an excuse for a ‘yes.’

“Who are you?” Jack closed the last distance between them and whispered into Lawrence's ear. The needle dug around at a crude angle.

Lawrence let a whimper escape his lips. He didn’t want to open his mouth, what if moving his jaw caused the needle to move?

“Who are you?” Jack began to shake with rage, Lawrence yelped as the pressure from the needle dug deeper into his eye.

“Jack! I'm Jack, I'm Handsome Jack” Lawrence yelled and with that Jack slid the needle out of his eye the pressure and discomfort released him.

“Thatta boy,” and Jack slapped a hand on Lawrence's shoulder, but he didn't pull away.

Lawrence barely heard him his hands hovered over his blue eye tracing along his brow and cheekbone. Too scared to touch the socket.

Jack snorted, “It’s fine, no damage done.”

Jack words of 'comfort' did nothing, the tears rocketed down Lawrence's face, he wanted to lean forward and curl up on the floor, but all he met was Jack’s chest. A deep sob escaped him, which he immediately regretted, Jack doesn't cry, Jack will punish him for this.

"Come on now, stop that" Jack cooed, but his voice was still dangerously low.

Jack moved his hand from Lawrence's shoulder and wrapped it around his back and pressed him forward. His thumb rolled into his spine and traced up and down the bone. Lawrence remained on his knees a crumbled mess; he wanted to flee. He pried his eyes open as his head lay embedded in the recess of Jack's neck.

The discarded needle was on the floor.

He could grab it, tear it into Jack’s neck, the man would bleed out in under a minute.

As Jack held him, he whispered something like 'precious', or 'perfect' into his ear. Lawrence had nowhere to go, yet the thought of murder clung to him. Despite his sobbing, his gaze remained fixed on the needle on the floor.

It was so close.

No one would care or mourn for a Timothy Lawrence if he quietly disappeared from the world, but what if he did not go quietly? What if he was the one to end it all? Take Jack at this moment, be the saviour for the border planets. Or better yet, claim them for himself, take over Helios and all its resources.

In the end, he could not rationalise his actions for a better future; he had none. It was pure instinct which drove him, a necessity to survive. He launched for the needle, Jack made a surprised noise as Lawrence's hand gripped over the vial.

"You ungrateful little shit" Jack snarled as he drove himself on top of him.

Lawrence saw the familiar glow of something digitising from Jack's gear chip. Lawrence kicked him in the shin.

"Get off me!"

His hand fumbled over the needle as Jack drove an elbow into his sternum. Lawrence gasped for air as a second brutal punch landed under his jaw, his head hit the polished floor. He didn't even feel the needle prick into his skin, but it must have gone in, as Jack was drawing his hand away. Panting as he discarded the second syringe on the floor; its contents empty.

"You REALLY should not have done that, kiddo."

Lawrence blinked slowly, he tried to swipe and kick again, but his movements were sloppy.

"wh...at," he drew a long breath before darkness claimed him.

* * *

There was a dull rumble inside his head, words echoed around him, but none of them legible. He willed his eyes to open, groaning he found they refused to meet his request. He couldn't recall much of anything. His mind felt heavy, smothered in something thick shielding his thoughts from reason.

It was the smell which eventually jolted him awake. Something too clean, sterile, and painfully familiar lingered in the air. Lawrence's world span to a crude angle as he opened his eyes and drew a sharp breath. The first thing he noticed was he couldn't move, he struggled against the straps on his wrists and ankles. He tested their strength and found they didn't give a fraction of an inch.

"Stop that," a voice, Jack's voice called from behind him.

Lawrence strained his head up, but everything was so bright, the room was reflective and corroded his vision. He groaned again as he tried to kick himself free from his binds.

“Oh, other-me,” an exasperated sigh spoke above, “What am I gonna do with you?”

Lawrence growled something low and venomous back as the other man paced into his line of sight. Jack rested his hands on the side of Lawrence's ankles soon after his fingers idly tapped against the chrome surface below him.

A surgical table.

"Well, I already know what I'm gonna do, but, I kinda want to hear your thoughts on the matter."

"What is this Jack?" Lawrence snapped, "get me out of this."

"Oh no way, champ, you just tried to shove a needle into me. You've got some conditioning to go through." Jack patted his leg affectionately, like a damn pet. Which earned him a spit from Lawrence.

"Fuck you. You fucking psycho, you shoved a needle down my fucking eye."

"Language," Jack marched over and dug a finger into Lawrence's exposed throat causing him to choke and splutter.

"You misbehaved" Jack leaned down, flashing the whites of his teeth. "You were doing so well, so well for me. I was hoping that mark on your face taught you all your lessons."

Jack moved his finger against Lawrence's forehead jabbing it against the scar.

"I guess I was wrong."

Lawrence hissed in a breath over his teeth, "fuck you."

"You've got an attitude problem, kitten," Jack cooeed as he turned to the end of the table. Something clicked, and Lawrence was abruptly shifted upright. The table swung horizontally, his weight slipped down, and his arms strained in the cuffs as he supported himself.

Lawrence drew his teeth together and kept his jaw tight. Fear would not claim him, no matter how vulnerable he was.

"Let me lay out what's going to happen, better yet, I'll show you."

Jack moved away, Lawrence craned his neck again to attempt a glimpse where he was going, but he was well out of sight. Lawrence took a deep breath and steady his breathing. He kept his head face forward, he would not submit, he would not beg. Not again, not like he had with the brand. He survived the needle, he can survive Jack, he will survive Jack.

_I will survive this._

Lawrence repeated the thoughts, over and over. He let his mind be lathered with determination. Even when Jack returned with a blade in hand did he not permit that courage to burst.

"Lean forward."

Lawrence ignored the request.

Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the tuff of his hair and yanked his head as far forward as the restraints allowed him to move. Using one hand to keep his head in the place, Jack used the other to wield the blade and slowly raised it up.

"What are you doing?" Lawrence hissed as he felt the cool edge of the blade rest on the back of his neck.

"Showing you your future."

With that Jack pressed the knife down and split the skin from the base of his head down past the collar of his shirt. Lawrence grunted, the pain was minimal, but nonetheless it was uncomfortable from the position he was hanging in.

He could feel the hot mess of blood run down his neck, he glanced down and saw crimson spot on his shirt. Jack tossed the blade to the floor, and Lawrence watched as it skimmed across the tiles smearing red everywhere.

"What was that for," Lawrence growled.

The blood was a steady stream, and he was already beginning to feel light headed.

Jack ignored him and surprisingly, digitised a silver mirror from his gear chip. Lawrence spied a flash of blue, a large gemstone was on the back of it. Jack raised it up for Lawrence to see into the reflective surface. His own mangled face stared back at him, the scar was deep and ran the length of his face. His blue eye was swollen and red from where the needle had been jammed down it. Despite the mess, it held a wild glow, determination lingered there. Jack hadn't broken him yet. Under all these layers of 'Jack' there was still a Timothy Lawrence, be damn what he said after he was seared with the mark of the vault. Jack will never take that from him. 

"What am I looking at?" Lawrence continued to rasp his questions at Jack.

Jack persisted with silence. Lawrence's eyes narrowed as the madman pulled out his pocket mirror, Jack carefully placed the second mirror against the table and supported it between Lawrence's back and the metal surface.

He could now see the back of his neck in his own reflection. The pain had not revealed how deep the wound was. His entire neck was smothered in blood. Jack kept the handheld gemstone mirror steady in front of him as his other hand reached for Lawrence's neck.

"Ah! Ah, Fuck!" Lawrence cried as Jack dug his fingers into the gash. He used his digits to scissor the wound open, and Lawrence's mind nearly cut to black.

Inside the wound, under a mass of red and flesh was something mechanical. A shiny metal surface lay hidden under his skin.

"No."

Lawrence's breathing hitched. His chest spasmed as Jack pulled the wound open further.

It was a cybernetic port.

"NO!" Lawrence screamed as he rounded on Jack.

Another non-consensual surgery. When had this happened? Why was it there?

Lawrence feverishly struggled against the cuffs, "you fucking bastard! What have you done?!"

Lawrence was hyperventilating as Jack withdrew his fingers. Yet, Jack wasn't done violating him, his hand reached for Lawrence's cheek. His red stained fingers cradled the side of his head, Lawrence desperately tried to pull away, only to leave a smear of the hot sticky matter against his face.

"It's been there for some time."

Jack withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers against Lawrence's pants.

"There's more," Jack smiled. Nothing about the way he smiled was genuine if anything he looked starved.

Jack moved towards the number of holo-screens in the corner of his vision. The desktop flashed something, and Lawrence heard the familiar sound of Jack typing away. There was a slow mechanical churning sound. What Lawrence had dismissed as a wall began to fall apart, revealing a dark window instead. Lawrence's breathing was still a mess, his chest jolted in front of him as he tried to gain control. His hands sporadically clenched and unclenched and sweat dripped down his hairline. The gash on his neck stung as the two bodily fluids met.

Jack quietly cursed as he continued to work the computer, leaving Lawrence to fidget again against the cuffs. He kept his eyes downcast, focused on his wrists. The screen in front of was too dark, emitting nothing. No sound or change transpired, and the longer Lawrence ignored it, the more his hairs stood on end. As if some horrible monster lurked in its depths.

Lawrence hissed as the cuffs pinched at his skin, he had to get out of here.

"Got it!" Jack cheered from the other side of the room.

Lawrence was indistinctly drawn to the screen or window as it booted up. His eyes narrowed as something moved beyond it. It wasn't precisely on the screen, more like, in it.

He'd been right, something was lurking in those dark depths. Lawrence struggled again as Jack approached his side.

_No._

He saw it.

Only for a moment, it had walked past, off in the distance. A soft blue glow, but it was there.

_No, no, no, no._

It stalked closer. Cautiously at first, but then its pace changed to something too familiar. A predatory stride as it marched forward, Jack's stride.

_No, not possible._

The blue being was so close now. It's features sharp and angular, just like the man beside him.

"No," this time Lawrence cried, his breathing shook as he rested his head back against the table.

"Oh, yes, pumpkin," it spoke back and shone a wide blue pixel grin through the window of its dark domain.

"NO!" Lawrence screamed as he rounded on the real Jack beside him.

The blue creature cocked its head to the side, Jack's digital features drew into a wolfish grin. His face consumed the entire window, an onslaught of pixels drowned out Lawrence's vision.

"Keep that pretty body in check for me, ok? I want it in one piece when I get to ride in it. Solo that is."

"No, please, Jack." Lawrence pulled his gaze away, refusing to talk or to look at the thing which loomed from within the window.

Jack rested his hands on his hips and kept his eyes forward on ...'It'. He refused to meet Lawrence's begging gaze and trembling voice.

"Jack?" Lawrence sobbed, "please, please, fuck. Jack?"

Lawrence couldn't look at 'It', he kept his eyes fixed on the Jack. The real Jack. He was a comfort he never thought he needed or wanted.

"Please. D-don't do it."

"I haven't even told you what I'm going to do," Jack deadpanned all while watching the blue thing in the window.

Lawrence sniffed, "wh-what?" it was all he could manage to squeeze out. His heart pounded erratically, every breath was trying to push it up his throat.

"This is an AI, based on my brain scans. It has my memories, my intentions and goals. In every sense of the word, it's my digital-self."

The 'Jack' in the window laughed as the real Jack in front of him continued to explain.

"This is Project Tartarus, my end game. The AI will inhabit your body."

"No," Lawrence pleaded "Jack, please, fuck no, don't do this."

Jack finally turned towards him, his expression was dark, almost mournful. Lawrence struggled forward, the cuffs tore at the skin on his wrists and ankles, but none of it mattered. He had to get closer to the real Jack and away from the creature in the window.

Jack rested a hand under Lawrence's chin and ran his thumb over his jaw.

"Despite your physical qualities, as you truly are a masterpiece, you'll never be me, you'll never become a perfect Jack."

"No," Lawrence desperately whispered. "No, I will, I can."

Both Jack's laughed, "No, I don't think you can."

"Please," the tears were freely spilling down his cheeks. "I can." Lawrence bowed his head, "please Jack, don't do this. I can be better."

Jack snaked he was to Lawrence side, his words were hot against his ear.

"You told me that once before, how is this any different, hmmm?"

Lawrence pressed his forehead against Jack's neck, desperate to get closer. He let what weight he had free fall into the other man, burying himself against him.

He mouthed his plea against Jack's throat, "Please, don't erase me, please don't do this, fuck. I don't want to go, I don't want to go."

Lawrence noticed the blue glow in the room had disappeared, prying his head back up he saw Jack had shut down the AI.

"Shh shhh," Jack's hands cupped around Lawrence's face steering him away from the black window. His gem-bright eyes fixed onto Lawrence's pale blue and milk-green ones. He knew now the determination they once wielded was long gone, there was no will to fight back.

"You won't feel a thing, I promise," Jack pressed a long gentle kiss on his forehead and stepped away.

"NO!" Lawrence screamed and tried to launch himself forward. "JACK! PLEASE DONT DO THIS!"

He chocked on his own cries, "JA-ACK!"

Jack continued to back away from him.

"DON'T MAKE ME GO! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

Jack gave him a bitter smile and turned away from him.

"NO! GODMANNIT, JACK! PLEASE! FUCK, JACK, DON'T GO!"

Jack was just on the edge of his vision, almost gone. A dark silhouette in the corner of his eye.

"p-please, Jack," Lawrence cried as he banged his head back against the table. "Don't go."

Jack paused his departure, he spoke over his shoulder, slow and cold were his words as they reached Lawrence's ears.

"Are you going to behave yourself, other-me?"

Lawrence sniffed, and a soft 'yes' hastily escaped his lips.

Jack gradually turn around.

"If I tell you to kill will you do it?"

Lawrence nodded his head, "yes, I'll do it, I'll do anything."

Jack started to walk back over.

"If I tell you to burn and raze a town to the ground, you'll do it, no questions asked?"

Lawrence was frantically nodding his head now.

He was by his side again.

"If I tell you to fucking roll over you'll be a good boy and do as your told.

"Yes, Jack."

Jack wiped away his tears and pushed his hair back away from his face.

"I'll do anything."

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is the worst housemate. He doesn't even do the dishes! Next update; Tim makes more poor life choices and Angel meets Nyx and Crake.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	12. DO NOT FOLLOW

"Say hello to your new home, darling. You're like a little princess, and this is your throne!"

The little girl cried and forced herself further into her Dad's arms. She just wanted to be held. She just wanted to go home. Her fragile frame shook as she begged, "I want mommy. Where's mommy?"

"She's not coming back, Angel. Now get in the freaking chair!" the monster snapped at her.

The girl continued to sob, she scraped at the arms of the man she thought was her Dad, but her struggle meant nothing to him. She was strapped into the cold confines of the metal chair, and something latched to the side of her head.

The little girl screamed and begged.

Angel watched on, horrified that she couldn't her actions had no merit. Every time she tried to pry the girl free Jack would storm in and latch Angel into the same device. But it never stopped her, she raced forward to free the child.

Now Angel was begging, Jack tried to soothe her with words while he pressed the wires into her skull. She and the little girl were trapped, bound to the chair and encased in darkness.

Jack only laughed.

Angel screamed into the side of her pillow. Her fists were pale and her body shook from the nightmare. The memories tried to linger, to hold her back in that dark place her mind unwilling took her when she slept. She released her fingers from their clenched state only to dig them into the sheets. Looking to hold onto something to ground her to this reality.

Jack was here, he was here with her now.

Angel threw herself up from the bed. The icy claws of fear dragged against her chest as she frantically tried to free herself from the covers. Breathing heavily she paused at remembering the man's face.

Lawrence's scar wasn't blue. 

Could it be a trick? 

_ No _ , she reasoned with herself. Closing her eyes she lamented.

Lawrence saved Felicity and he said he wanted to help her. Definitely not Jack.

Angel groaned and fell back into the pillow, she was becoming as paranoid as Jack. Was it a family curse? But she couldn’t let herself succumb to her emotions, to fear, losing control would draw attention. If her powers got caught up in the echo transmitter, she could accidentally send out a beacon. It would only take one small signal and then the real Jack could find her. She closed her eyes and curled back up. At least she had the comfort of a real bed. Angel buried herself in the sheets, begging for a dreamless sleep to take her. Yet, the adrenaline from her nightmare made that impossible, and so she focused her mind on the wall in front of her.

She studied the pockets of rust, the way the walls dug in and out. Lawrence's safe house was an old Hyperion shipping container; dark and windowless. How it ended up on top of a hill embedded between two peaks was beyond her. Maybe he moonshot it down? How much of this escape was plan ahead? Did he always intend to leave Jack?

Angel wanted to know, she always needed answers. Releasing herself from the bedding she rolled over and leaned her head off the cot to face her travelling companion, and yet, she discovered his ‘bed’ empty.

She shot up and scanned the container. She checked every corner, a pointless exercise.

He was gone.

Angel reverted her attention to the empty bed on the floor. A crudely written note in a scrawl she recognised as Jack’s handwriting laid on top of the pillow - a pile of clothes - and alongside it the cloaking device, and another watch with a teal face. Gingerly she slipped off the bed and reached for the note.

_ 'Gone back to the Bunker, DO NOT FOLLOW. Call me on the echo-comm when you’re awake.' _

_ \- Lawrence _

Angel swore loudly, only to snap her mouth shut.

'Language', she thought of her Dad’s words.

"He's gone," Angel spoke out loud, only for no one to hear.

She chewed on her lip as she approached the Constructor. Felicity took up the entire entrance. The container was designed to moonshot Constructors and loaders down, not house a human. Angel climbed over Lawrence's makeshift bed and placed her hand forward. The tattoos on her arm lit up as she called to Felicity. Hoping to learn when Lawrence left in the cycle.

Felicity was silent.

Angel peaked under the Constructor and saw that her circuit board had been ripped out.

This time she swore louder.

Lawrence had silenced Felicity.

She couldn't have slept long, maybe she could still catch him? Angel grabbed her echo, the cloaking device and watch. She crouched down on her hands and knees and crawled under the small space between Felicity and the walls. The container door was heavy and not precisely designed to be opened from the inside after some lifting, Angel pried the latch open. She tried to ignore how exhausted she felt from the slight exertion.

It may have been early morning in the cycle, yet the Pandora sun was long gone. Darkness would accompany her for another forty or so hours. Making her search for him futile in the dark. Still, she paced up to the edge of the cliff determined to scan the canyon below. The bandit truck was gone and along with it her trust.

A sickening chill swept over her.  _ You stupid girl, you trusted him? _

Angel cursed her naivety, how could have she have willingly made a deal with this man? She clutched at the frayed remains of her sleeves. How long did he intend to leave her? Did she have enough Eridium? What about food? Water? What if bandits came? What if Jack came for her?!

How could he leave her here!?

Angel dropped to the ground and hugged her knees. She pressed her face into her arms and let a dry sob escape her. She was free, yet more terrified than she'd ever been. Dread crawled over her, it scratched at her mind, slithered over her body like a serpent intent on consuming her.  

Images of wires, cords and black appendages swept across her mind. She may have escaped her chamber, yet she might as well be trapped. This other-jack had her at his mercy. Angel didn't know if it was vertigo from being so high up or her anxiety, yet she fell back on her palms. Her hands scraped against the gravel, and another sob left her.

Angel's arm lit up, fear was the culprit.

Without the assistance of her 'chair', she couldn't' control her powers. The wires against her mind had allowed her to be tapped into one system at a time.

But here in the open?

She was surrounded by technology and there were too many things to harness. The systems from the safehouse were firing up; the echo and the watches in her pockets coming alive. She prayed the rocket launches on Lawrence's shelves were all analog. If she lost control she could take the entire structure down.

She needed to get out of here.

The light from her tattoos blinded her vision. What was once hidden in shadows was now obscured by the beam of her arm. Her hands scraped against the rocky mountainside as she flung herself to her feet. Angel had only sprinted a few times in her life, and It didn't take long for her legs to feel like battery acid, but she pushed on. She needed to be far away from any software. She focused on the echo on her belt.

_ I need to be in one system. Just one system. _

She read the lines of Hyperphire over and over and forced her mind to focus solely on that.

_ I can’t lose control _

She ran until she was at the base of the hill and sought her refuge against the cliffside. This was where she'd hidden from Lawrence. It was a crack deep enough to curl up in, away from prying eyes and the elements. It was too small for an adult or even spiderants, yet inside this dirty, sharp, dark fissure was where she felt safe.

Angel hugged her knees and waited for the moment to pass.

Her mind was contained to the echo-comm, and the rest of her body functioned on instinct. Angel latched onto Lawrence, anger stirred in her.

He left her! How could he possibly think that was a sensible thing to do! Angel wanted to scream at him. Tell him what an idiot he was.

Unknowingly, she was about to have that chance.

"Angel?" Jack's voice spoke from underneath her.

Angel's anger fluttered away, panic beat against her chest upon hearing Jack's voice.

_ It isn't him _ , she reasoned.

She'd been so tapped into the device that her thoughts alone had called him. She pulled the echo out from beneath her and held it up to her knees.

“Lawrence,” she tried to administer a stern voice, but it didn’t quite hit the mark.

“Everything ok?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Ok..."

Angel suspected he saw through her lie.

"I'm nearly at the Bunker," he continued.

They may have only just met, but the abandonment stung all the same. Angel clutched the echo tighter.

"So, before you go off," Lawrence scolded. Angel screwed her face up, she didn't like his tone one bit.

"Just know that I promised myself a long time ago I’d bring Felicity back." He replied in a tone far firmer than anything she could muster. "I'll be back by the end of the Cycle."

Angel had a lot to say to that, but when the pause in the conversation came for her to reply. The words escaped her. Jack didn't like it when she talked back.

“I need to fix things with Felicity. You wouldn’t understand.”

'I might if you’d spoken to me', is what she would have said, but who knew how he would react if she talked back. Did he have Jack's temper? Angel bit her lip until it hurt. She wanted to know so badly. Why didn't he talk to her! How could he leave her in the dark? Literally.

The line was quiet for a while. While Jack would never stop talking, Lawrence prefered silence.

“What are you planning to do?” Angel asked quietly.

“I’m getting your servers."

"Right."

Lawrence sighed, "you’ll be fine on your own, you survived during the Pandora day for two cycles, this will be a breeze.” Lawrence did not radiate confidence and Angel hadn’t precisely chosen to be abandoned this time.

"Ok," she replied, ignoring his words of encouragement.

Lawrence responded in silence again.

“What if Jack comes for me while you’re gone?” Angel dug her feet into the dirt in an attempt to bury herself further into the hollow.

“There's no stopping Jack if he discovers you're alive.”

Angel swallowed down a firm lump in her throat before Lawrence continued, “but if anyone else comes calling you’ve got the clocking device and if things go really south you've got Crake and Nyx to look after you.”

Who and who now?

“The wristwatch, not the pocket watch. Honestly, why did Jack make me wear two watches? Anyway, it usually activates to my thumb swipe, but for you I have a code, enter ‘09 12152205 251521.’

Angel frowned at Lawrence's unexpected ramble. Confirming once again he only talked when it regarded anything but her. She drew out the scrunched up note and the wristwatch she’d shoved into her oversized pants. The teal interface caught the moonlight and flashed a soft hue across the walls of her little hidey-hole.

“That's a needlessly long password,” she criticised.

However, Angel only needed to rest her palm on the watch, and as her arm lit up, she entered the code through her consciousness. The watch emitted a brilliant purple flash before the two light waves separated to reveal a red and blue hologram.

Angel's hands drew to her throat. The last line of defence from wearing the collar. As her eyes grew wide in horror from setting sights on not one, but two versions of her Dad. The nightmare was real, he was here. 

Angel screamed, the tattoos flickered to life and as her voice carried across the empty night, she lost control.

All the devices in the surrounding area connected to her. The echo-comm by her side emitted static, sparks singed the edges of her jumper. Smoke made her eyes water, and her tattoos blinded her from her surroundings. She fumbled her hands across the ground and found the comm. Controlling her shaking hands for only a moment to throw it as far away as she could. Something cracked loudly, burnt minerals and metal reached her nose. 

The presence of the clocking device left her conscious. 

However, her powers weren't finished, and they latched onto the next piece of software available; the watch.

The two holograms yelled something at her. Without acknowledging she picked up the wristwatch and threw it and then she ran. She had to get it away from the devices, or they would meet the same fate as the clocking device. Angel risked looking over her shoulder to see the two holograms had reappeared next to the watch. The red one stood beside it, nudging the ground with his foot the blue one continued to yell at her.

Angel ran until she felt the last of the devices leave her mind. The energy the Siren powers granted her left in a wave of exhaustion. Using them to such a degree without the assistance of her chair left her like a candle that had burned throughout the night.

She bent in half and rested her hands on her knees. Breathing heavily she waited for her mind to rest and the last of the connections to cease. 

"HAVE YOU FINISHED FREAKING OUT?" Jack called to her.

She spun around, the red Jack had his hands on his hips the other, the blue Jack who had supposedly called to her before, yelled again.

"WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?!"

_ They are not the same _ , Angel concluded.

Red-one and Blue-two seemed to act independently from another. Was Jack controlling only one of them? Even with the considerable distance she kept between them, she could nonetheless detect Jacks mannerism in them. The way they stood, Red-one had his shoulders squared, arms crossed a display of Jacks temper and authority. While Blue-two was kicking at the ground like a side-lined child, encasing Jack's one other emotion; impatience.

They hadn't tried to reach her. Angel concluded that they must be bound to the watch. Maybe if she waited, they would go away? Something had to be charging them, she reasoned.

"HEY COME ON! YOU GONNA LEAVE US OUT HERE?" Blue-two called again.

Blue-two kicked at a rock, only for the ground to remain untouched. Red-one shrugged his shoulders and spoke to his hologram counterpart, Angel couldn't hear what was being said.

"TI-...ah...LAWRENCE TOLD US TO LOOK AFTER YOU!" Blue-two yelled. "SO EVERYTHING IS COOL, YOU CAN COME BACK NOW."

Lawrence? They were taking orders from him and not Jack. Angel crouched to the ground surrounding herself with shrubs. As if hiding herself from view would cause them to forget she was there. The tattoos had faded to a faint glow. She glared at the markings wishing they would go out and so she too could become invisible.

Years of Eridium abuse did not permit them to go completely out.

If the two Jacks tried anything she could always scramble their code. Yet, if Jack was really controlling one of the holograms wouldn't he have moonshot something down to get her by now?

Angel had asked herself too many questions for her curiosity to stand. She stood up, the moonlight caught the light of the discarded echo-comm and watch. Red-one and Blue-two emitted a soft hue to the surrounding area and she prayed their yelling and light source hadn't attracted any locals.

Angel took her first step towards the two holograms. Her gaze trailed down to the holstered guns against their hip and leg. Could they actually fire a weapon? They were holograms, right? Unanswered questions gnawed at her mind.

There was only one way to find her answers. She wouldn't let Jack succumb her to fear.

"Shussh it, she's coming over," Blue-two hissed to Red-one.

Now that she was closer, the way Blue-one spoke wasn't precisely Jack-like. His expressions were softer, though swifter than the real Jack. She cautiously took another step closer; still not near enough to access the comm. To access its code she would have to be in reach. Angel kept her stance wide, ready to sprint if it came to it. Only a few metres closer and she could access the watch and disable the two Jacks, or if it came to it, destroy them entirely.

"Um... my ah echo, can I have it back? please?" All thoughts of courage were carried away as if the night's breeze had stolen them. Angel bit her tongue at her stammering, but she didn't repeat the request.

Blue two kicked the echo-comm with his foot which travelled right through the device. A crude way to validate his point, but not unlike Jack.

"Sorry kiddo, can't pick it up for you."

Angel's chest tightened at the use of the pet name 'Kiddo'. She despised the word. It had once been a name just for her, from her Dad to his baby girl. It used to mean something. She took in a long breath to diminish the tightness clinging inside her.

"You'll have to come get it yourself," Red one commanded, his voice hitched at the right moment as if to mock her.

Angel instinctively stepped back so fast that it took awhile for her mind to catch up with her legs.

"Fucking hell Crake, way to sound sinister. I don't even want to come near you when you speak like that." Blue two threw a digital hand in front of Red one as he cursed.

Jack didn't swear, at least not in front of her.

Red-one just shrugged, "well it's the truth," he reasoned.

Angel wasn't close enough to take in all their features, especially seeing as they were partially transparent. However, there was enough to know they were younger than the real Jack, or human Jack. She took another wary step forward, closing the gap between them. They were much younger, as they weren't wearing the mask, and their faces were absent of scars.

Angel took one last step.

"We don't bite," said Red-one. The admission did nothing to encourage Angel to step closer.

"Oh, will you shut it, you like radiate hostility! Creepy unwelcoming hostility," Blue-two yelled, but his tone was relaxed, and he even chuckled afterwards.

Red-one opened his mouth to counter, but whatever was said was cut out. He flickered in and out of existence and Blue-two quickly followed suit. He tried to call to Angel but his words kept cutting out.

"F-CK,  J-ice is  all gon-.

Static consumed them.

"Whatev--  ha-pen dra--ed  t-- batt---, se-  y- lat--- kid--"

And with that, they both vanished with a burst of pixels.

Angel felt a long breath escape her. Who knew how long she'd held that captive? She glanced down at her hands, her knuckles were pale from being clenched into tiny fists. Slowly she let her shoulders relax, and straighten her knees. No longer bent and parted ready to sprint at a moments notice. As she unwound, the silence of the night crept over her. 

Shivering she stepped carefully towards the echo-comm and the wristwatch. Picking them up she could see there was no exterior damage. However, she'd have to check them over for software corruption once she was back inside the safe house.

She hugged her arms as she wandered back to the container. Wishing she wasn't alone but also hoping to avoid another encounter with the Holo-Jack's.

* * *

“Oh yeah, should've probbbaaaabbbly mentioned they look like Jack,” Lawrence spoke from the echo-comm.

"One would have thought that was an important note to mention," Angel growled. She wasn't certain if Lawrence heard as he remained silent to her comment.

She was safe inside the container once again. With her Siren powers all exerted it was less likely she'd blow the place up.

"What happened when you called them? The line went dead," Lawrence asked.

"I accidentally disconnected it," she lied through gritted teeth. She couldn't reveal what happened. What would Lawrence do with her if he found out how unstable her powers could be? There was also the issue of the cloaking device. Angel's moment of loss control had completely fired the hardware and scrambled the code.

She was a terrible liar. If Lawrence saw through it, he gave nothing away. He, on the other hand, had proven himself an excellent liar; just like her father. 

_ Another point for Lawrence in the Jack-like category. _

"Look, I can tell that... You're a little concerned about the two 'Jacks'," Lawrence stressed her Dad's name.

She wanted to retort back, yell at him for leaving her alone with them, but Lawrence was on a ramble, and she'd only got information out of him in these rare instances. So she let him continue.

"They have some Jack-like traits, and yes they look like him, which I imagine you noticed... But they're not Jack, ok? So don't stress."

The video feed wasn't live and so Lawrence couldn't see Angel's livid face at being told to 'not stress'. As if she could flick a button and all memories of Jack would be taken away.

“Look, they won't hurt you,” he broke the silence again, “they were built-oh fuck! FUCK! Fuck you! Come on!”

Lawrence yelled more curses - one point for Lawrence in the not-Jack category - and gunfire erupted over the comm.

“Don’t fret just some threshers but I’ve got to go,” he said before the comm went dead leaving Angel alone once again.

It took her longer than she hoped to regain her courage. Her sense of peace was fragile, and the thought of summoning the two Jack's ate away at her nerve. Hugging her knees she leaned against the container wall on her cot. There was a lot of tech in the room and if she used her Siren powers she could fry the wrong device. But Lawrence said they were safe? Angel fidgeted against the sheets and banged her head against the wall.

A long groan escaped her. "I can do this," she spoke aloud as if the vocal admission would give her more confidence.

She summoned her powers and entered the code into the digistruct watch. Red and blue particles burst forward and there stood the two Jacks.

"HI AGAIN!" Blue-two cheered.

"Oh shit, you're hella close. I don't need to yell anymore," Blue-two stepped back from the cot.

Red-one rolled his eyes and leaned against Lawrence's desk. Angel took note how the hologram seemed to naturally interact with the room's surroundings.

“You... You don’t know who I am?” Angel asked slowly.

“Ah... Guess not?” Red-one replied folding his arms with scrutinising glare.

“Why would we know you kiddo?” Blue-two spoke brightly.  

His features, Jacks features were smoother than anything she'd ever seen on the real man's face. Red-one seemed entirely disinterested in her. Instead, his eyes were narrow, darting around the corners of the safe house.

“Because I'm your daughter!” Angel blurted out.

That gained the attention of the Red-one, “We’re digistructed AI we cannot have children.”

_ I know that. _

“The man you’re based off does,” Angel grumbled.  Following Red-one's example she crossed her arms.

"Right, well we're not Jack," Red-one hissed as if she'd insulted him.

Angel pressed further into the container wall.

"Ok, back off big boy," Blue-two chimed in.

Red-one gave his counterpart a dangerous look but said nothing.

“I’m Nyx,” the blue hologram spoke, voice low in a very charismatically Jack-like way.

Nyx offered her a blue digital hand and gingerly she approached. Static tingled her fingertips, she expected her hand to move straight through the hologram yet she found it was more like interacting with suspended water. The holograms weren't precisely holograms. That explained how they could project their voices, and interact with the environment like a real person. They had some sense of mass, Angel realised. Her eyes widen as she inspected Nyx's outstretched hand.

“Crake.” Red-one woke her from her thoughts. He did not bother to offer her his hand.

“I’m Angel,” she replied and returned them a hesitant smile.

Curiously, she pressed her hand to the wristwatch and summoned her powers again. The software was vast yet simple, an example of Jack’s brilliant coding. In there, she could see that Crake encased more of Jacks violent and hostile personality traits, while Nyx sat on the other end of the spectrum. Despite their Jack-ness, there was a substantial amount of code that indicated to a whole different being.

"Get out of my head,  _ please _ ," The red AI hissed, moving off the benched he stood to his full height and towered over her.

Angel flinched and pulled away. There was too much Jack ingrained in Red-one for her to make eye contact.

"Sorry," she mumbled and kept her eyes downcast. 

“There's no threat, we should leave and save our energy” and with that Crake disappeared with a burst of pixels back into the watch.

“Bit of a knob isn’t he?” Nyx gave her a sly smile, “I can hang around if you like? Why were you in a hole in a cliff before? Is that where Lawrence is keeping you? That's a weird place to put someone, bit of a dick move. How were you not freezing out there? I mean my sensors told me it was six degrees, so I guess that's cold. I wouldn't know. I can't feel shit."

Nyx didn't give Angel a lot of room to get a word in; One point to being Jack-like for Nyx. This was too surreal, she now had three versions of Jack in her life, none of them a-like and none of them an exact copy of the real Jack.

“Um... I needed to get away from the safe house,” Angel finally answered.

“Ok... sounds fair.” Nyx slumped down beside her on the cot and crossed his legs.

The way Nyx moved was fascinating as if he had a real weight to him. Like he could actually be leaning against the cot next to her. Angel couldn't help but stare, her Dad had really outdone himself this time.

“I didn’t know I had a daughter.” Nyx cocked his head to the side and looked her over, “and you’ve got tattoos!”

Blue Jack beamed at her, “Sweet”.

Angel pulled up the Hyperion sweeter so Nyx could see the full length of her arm. A small jolt of panic swept her, she mentally cursed herself for so easily revealing her secret to the AI. However, the feeling was short lived. Nyx's reaction was not at all what she expected.

“Holy shit! You’re a Siren, I have a Siren Daughter?!” Nyx was ecstatic, "That’s so cool. What can you do!? Can you blow stuff up!? Teleport!?"

Angel couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm.  

“So if I have a pretty kid, does that mean I have a hot wife too? I mean you may have got all your good genetics from me, but I’d like to think I had pretty lady too.”

“Um... You did. She's gone.”

“Oh, bummer, sorry.” Nyx gave her a solemn look. Angel hoped it was genuine, the real Jack made feigning sincerity an artform.

Thankfully Nyx didn’t press the matter.

"So are you going to tell me what the hell happened before? Was that a Siren thing? You know all the devices going haywire. No offence, but it felt like you were tearing up my metaphorical insides." Nyx moved dramatically to imitate his guts pouring out of him.

"I'm sorry. I... I really don't want to talk about it," Angel confessed.

Nyx hummed, "No worries. I should probs leave you too it, you look like you need rest. Again, no offence, but you look like shit, kiddo."

There was a lot to process from that simple statement. Her mouth was left hanging open as she thought of a valid response to Nyx. Jack had  _ never _ let her dismiss a conversation, he always got what he wanted, always pressing her for more when all she wanted was to be alone.

_ One point to Nyx for the not-Jack category. _

"I think, that's a good idea."

Nyx gave her a slow nod and moved out of her way so she could lay down on the cot. Another not-Jack gesture. Jack would have made people walk through him if he were ever a hologram, Angel mused.

_ Another point to Nyx. _

* * *

Before Lawrence left the safe house he’d administer Angel with more Eridium. The substance had swiftly carried her off to sleep, and he used the opportunity to sneak out as Pandora sun finally set. He apologised to Felicity as he ripped her circuits out, all his hard work gone. But he'd have her back soon. He drove the truck through the night to reach Lynchwood from there he fast travelled back to the Bunker.

Everything started with the destruction of Felicity.

If only he'd had told Jack to go fuck himself and his contract. Maybe, 'fuck himself' would have been a poor choice of words. Maybe things would have panned out different.

Running both his hand down his face he groaned loudly. He knew the threat would have been pointless. Jack always got what he wanted, the universe loved him so. But if he'd just left, fled when he had the chance with Athena then at least he wouldn’t have been accountable for countless horrors.

Lawrence had committed many atrocities over the years. He’d helped Nisha kill some Vault Hunters dog, he’d captured runaway scientists for Jack, executed those who disobeyed and airlocked those suspected of treasons. He had even branded another double and hunted down anyone who tried to flee. Yet, despite all of this, his mind always trailed back to the AI who only wanted her freedom.

He rubbed the inside of his palms. One of his tells when he struggled with his choices. It sickened him to think if he could just save her, it would redeem himself of all of this. His rational brain screamed at him that one good dead didn't wipe away the bad. However, his other half told him it would provide some peace of mind. And that's all he really cared about.

Lawrence paced down the empty halls of the Bunker. His footsteps sounded like a parade against the silent compound, not even loaders were about. His echo buzzed to life, and Lawrence accepted the call on from his earpiece.

“How did you convince Jack I was dead?” Angel blurted out.

He'd wondered when he was going to have this conversation. Angel hadn't lead on how much she recalled from their escape. Eridium was a powerful substance on the mind, no doubt the details would elude her.

“I’m still not sure I have," Lawrence finally answered. "That's why you must keep the cloaking device on hand. Call Nyx or Crake if you have to."

He detected a hitch in her breathing. There was something she wanted to say, but she only offered him silence.

“I cut your hair..." Lawrence paused, did she really need to know about her teeth? The health-kit and Eridium seemed to have entirely healed her jaw. No point telling her that detail. "I used your hair to lay traces of your DNA in the Eriduim. Sorry about the shitty haircut," he mumbled the last bit.

Reaching his destination he shoved his palm against the scanner and held his breath as he waited for the results. Praying that Jack hadn't revoked his access to the server room.

"How would that have proved anything? The Eridium destroys everything. There would be nothing left," Angel pressed.

Not if it was bone or teeth, Lawrence argued silently.

The door gave a pleasant chime and slid apart to reveal a cold dark vault. Stepping over the threshold wrapping he wrapped his jacket around him. The cooling system was hard at work.

"I dunno. You're a Siren, maybe the Eridium left it untouched," Lawrence was losing focus on the conversation. Just muttering whatever came to mind.

A soft hum buzzed around him as if he'd entered some kind of wasp nest. There were rows and rows of servers stacked to the roof.  It was like exploring a dark metal hedge maze, only the glow from the wiring allowed him to explore.

“Angel, I’m in the server room, there are hallways of these things. Which one am I looking for.”

“I wouldn't know," her tone stiff.

Lawrence rubbed his brow as he explored further into the vault. How much data was here that he could exploit? All of it only for Jack's eyes.

"I’ve never been in that room. I’ve never left my chamber," Angel explained.

Lawrence sighed, exasperation was on the edge of consuming him.

“I have an idea," she said thoughtfully, "plug your echo into one of the servers, and I’ll access it through the call.”

“No,” he halted his search, "you're not going to do that."

“Why?! I can easily search all of the servers and find the one with Felicity's code and transfer it to your Echo,” she implored.

“I can’t have you sniffing around if Jack noticed-”

“He won’t.”

He didn't reply, this wasn't a debate.

"You need to trust me with this,” Angel pleaded.

Lawrence grounded his teeth.

“Fine, I’m plugging the echo in now. You go in, and you're out straight away. Don’t you dare touch anything else.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lawrence's brow knitted together. He couldn't tell if she was mocking him, or if she was intimidated into submission. He just wanted to keep her safe, but that meant being firm, in Jack's voice.

It didn't take long for Angel to access the serves. His echo buzzed to life, the screen was a blur with numbers and code. Lawrence was sure it was going to crash, but after a few moments, Angel declared it was done. What she had on Felicity was now stored on the device. He wasted no time and proceeded back to his loft. Lawrence figured he should double check the surveillance system was still down. He took the marble steps two at a time, and once the scanner gave him the 'ok', he stepped into his quarters. Everything was still covered in purple and red stains, glass shattered everywhere, and the cupboards and draws tossed open. A thin layer of dust had settled across his bench.

No one had been here.

Lawrence paced to his workstation and got to work. He tried to keep a calm composure, but his heart raced. Every moment he lingered was a moment for Jack to apprehend him. He hit the keys on his computer to wake it from its deep slumber. Notifications were scattered across his screen regarding maintenance, broken torrents and a few rouge loaders. Lawrence went to disregard them all. However, another warning popped up.

_ INCOMING FAST-TRAVEL. APPROVAL NOT NEEDED. _

Lawrence gripped the desk in front of him.

_ OCCUPANT: Male _

_ DESTINATION: Helios to Bunker: Control Core. _

"No, no, no, no," Lawrence growled.

He shoved some commands into the computer in an attempt to cancel the fast-travel. He knew it was futile, but he couldn't sit idle. Warnings popped forward declaring he didn't have permission for his actions. With all other options spent he called Angel.

“Oh fuck, Angel, don’t worry about me, everything will be ok, ok?" Lawrence blurted out.

“What is it? What's happening?”

_ NEW OCCUPANT HAS ARRIVED AT THE BUNKER: CONTROL CORE. _

“Jack just fast traveled to the Bunker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! This story just hit 15 subscribers! thank you all! Please let me know in the comments how you're finding it. It's seriously one of the most heartwarming things to hear your thoughts xxx
> 
> Next week/update; Tim and Jack meet face-to-face for the first time in months.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \---------------
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	13. Bent & Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter deals with #drugAbuse and #forcedmedicaltreatment**

“Whatcha been up to Timmy?”

Lawrence could smell the ethyl fumes from across the room.

Jack’s mask was absent, his hair had that oily texture to it when he programmed for days on end, and his chin was covered with an uneven stubble. This was not the Jack he knew. Worst of all, his eyes wielded a sunken gaze, evidence he’d been at the bottle.

“You’re drunk.” Lawrence crossed his arms, providing Jack with his best scrutinising glare. 

“Oh, I’m more than that,” Jack snarled as he took a guarded step forward. “But, how am I doing? Thanks for asking."

He stalked closer.

"You see my daughter was murdered by scum living bandit psychopaths, my girlfriend is then also murdered, shot in the face actually and that wasn’t even the best bit. My double, yes you dear pumpkin, shot her, didn’t have the decency to call, then you ran off and left me to pick up the shit stained pieces.” Jack was practically spitting at him when he reached the end of his rant. Each accusation only tightened the noose around Lawrence's neck, he was going to need all his wits to free himself from this execution.

“Where-the-hell! Have you been?”

“Busy, I've been-”

Jack drew his gun and aimed, Lawrence preferred to keep his holstered. He just needed to wait out the storm. Drawing a weapon now would only fuel the winds of Jack's rage.

“You son-of-a-bitch, you left me,” Jack hissed.

“I told you I was just on a leave of absence. It’s nearly been six years I figured I deserved one.”

Jack flexed his grip, but it did nothing to steady his aim.

“Put that stupid thing down Jack, you’ll just end up shooting yourself in the foot,” Lawrence scolded.

Jack ignored the advice.

“I had to bury her, Nisha, why did you take her from me?" Jack didn't give him the opportunity to reply, "and now I have to bury my little girl,” he shook as he took another step forward. 

"Why couldn't you save her?" Jack's voice was on the edge of breaking, "you let them murder her, she was just a little girl."

The gun wavered to and from Lawrence's head.

"HOW COULD YOU LET THEM KILL MY ANGEL?!"

Lawrence had only witnessed him this unstable twice. The most recent of times Jack had been intent on killing him - for a reason he'd rather forget - but Jack was a coward. He couldn't do it, so two other cloaked doubles paid the price. After that, he knew Jack could never follow through with his threats. Despite this knowledge, caution was the best approach.

Lawrence raised his hands slowly and lightly stepped towards the kitchen. Jack kept his arm raised trailing after him with the gun pointed at his head. He opted to sit on the stool opposite him, ensuring the bench separated them.

Déjà vu captured Lawrence's mind for a moment. So many of their fights had started and ended with the kitchen bench between them. The destruction of Felicity on his server, the argument over him getting a cybernetic eye, when they first... Lawrence bit down on his tongue. He didn't need to recall those memories while Jack had a gun pointed at his head.

"ANSWER ME!?" Jack roared again.

Whatever answer he gave Jack it wouldn't satisfy him. Instead, he opted for redirection.

“When was the last time you even fired a gun at anything living?” Lawrence jerked an arm towards Jack's outreached gun. The CEO didn’t play ‘hero’ on Pandora or Elpis anymore, no, that was all him.

“Oh fuck off, Tim”

Jack fired a warning shot and he felt the hot flame from the laser shoot pass his ear. Countless bandits, wannabe assassins and kidnappers had tried their best to inject fear into his heart, Jack was no different. An angry Jack with a laser was frightening in only one aspect; he’d miss his warning shot and actually shoot Lawrence in the face. Jack wasn’t the least bit threatening with a gun, not after he'd spent years living with the man. He’d witness Jack fire his laser at a damn toaster oven that burnt his cheesie. This was just another Sunday lunch.

“You fucking shit, you little cock-sucking stain of a human being, what the fuck Tim! What the actual fuck! Why did you fucking kill her?”

Get it all out of your system kiddo. Lawrence resisted against temptation to remind Jack that swearing was an excellent way to deal with pain. He felt mocking the man further would be overkill.

“I’m sorry about Nisha.”

“No, you’re not.”

Lawrence shrugged, “you’re right, I’m not. She may have wanted to fuck me, but she hated my guts. I honestly can’t say I’m going to miss her.”

“Is that why you killed her?”

“No…” Lawrence replied quietly, his eyes never leaving Jack’s.

“Why!? Then!?” Each word was purposely put to him, cold and void of anything remotely human.

Jack was a paranoid man, even in Nisha's death he’d find anything to grasp to, to blame her for leaving him in this world. He already had the perfect cover story.

“Nisha and your team of doctors were the only ones who knew about our scars.”

The scar above his collarbone from the failed sniper assassination was one of the few features that distinguished them apart.

“ _ What _ about it?”

“You and I both know someone had to have told that Vallory bandit about our scars. How on earth would she have known I was the body double?”

Jack pressed his lips together, his fists were uncharacteristically pale. Lawrence leaned forward and continued to feed the man’s paranoia.

“When Nisha came to collect me... We had a disagreement. I confronted her about a few things and it didn’t end well for her.” Lawrence kept his tone flat and his eyes focused on Jack. He could lie his way through this. He had to.

“And one of these things was the Vallory assassination attempt?” Jack cocked a brow, his composure relaxing for the first time.

“She didn’t outright admit, I think she was too nervous to confess she nearly killed you too. But she was a proud woman, and couldn’t help boast that she had some hand in it.”

Lawrence served the last of his lie to Jack; vague yet probable. The fewer details he offered up, the better. All he needed was the seed of doubt to eat away at Jack. He had no remorse for destroying whatever feelings the man had left for his lover. Good riddance.

The story Lawrence was playing on was one they both remembered well. It was meant to be their vacation, a few days alone before he was to be sent away to reside at the Bunker. They took the most overpowered vehicle Hyperion had to offer and moonshot down to Pandora to spend the weekend ransacking the place. Jack hadn’t set foot on the planet in a year and was keen to prove to Lawrence he could still handle himself. Unfortunately, an unbearably decrepit woman named Vallory cut their holiday short and somehow the damn woman had obtained intel on who was the real Jack. 

As a result, Jack almost didn't make it.

He took care of her men (sadly Vallory got away), but the mystery of who had sent the vile woman after them was never solved. Until now. Nisha was Lawrence's scapegoat, and Jack was lapping it up.

“Now you know.”

Jack’s face screwed up and Lawrence was surprised his face could contort to such a degree.

“I got her a damn anniversary gift, now what am I meant to do with it? You Jackass.”

Lawrence just gave him a shrug, “give it to me?”

“You're just full of wonderful ideas princess, how do you feel about lingerie?” Jack gave Lawrence the briefest of sly smiles.

“I’m not opposed,” he delivered a bright grin to match Jack’s.

Jack tossed the gun onto the bench between them, before he let his face fall into his hands.

"I was growing tired of her anyway,” Jack groaned.

He knew this play. Jack was attempting to disregard his tantrum by acting like he never cared in the first place. Lawrence knew full well Jack loved Nisha, in his own unique fucked up way. It wasn’t the same as what they had, there wasn’t a word to describe what Jack and Lawrence had. Jack would return to moping, he couldn’t keep up the facade of not caring for long. He held onto grudges and despair like a security blanket.

Jack ran a long hand down his face and sighed deeply, he looked more his age than ever. Without the gun pointed at his chest, Lawrence could take a moment to study his adversary. Bags crept under his eyes, and grey hair now lingered where Jack didn’t have it deliberately styled. Lawrence wondered how he looked himself, the last week hadn’t precisely been stress-free.

He slowly shifted in his chair, the movement caught Jacks attention, and his hand twitched towards the gun. He gave Jack an honest smile and reached for what remained of the scotch and the glass tumblers he and Nisha had left out. Pouring them both a drink he slid the glass towards Jack. Lawrence needed to keep a clear head, but one drink wouldn't hurt.

They sat in silence for the most prolonged period that he could recall. Jack could fill any silence with a rant or his drabbles, but not this time.

For a moment his mind wandered back to the comforts of their apartment, how they'd spend their evenings together. They’d sit and drink, bitch about rival companies and muse about how they’d spend their Friday Firing sprees. Maybe it wouldn’t be worth kicking up a fuss? Maybe he should just go back with Jack. He could always try and get a message to Athena, to retrieve Angel. Jack had him back now, and without Nisha, he wasn’t going to let him go anywhere but back to Helios.

Jack ran a hand along the bench and collected the dust on his fingertips, “Where did you go?” Jack asked, studying his dust-covered hand.

Lawrence rested his head in his arm, sighing he recounted a vague version of his adventures.

“Drove around the highlands, took part in some sniper practice, camped outside, saved a Constructor from some bandits. You kept me locked up here for too long.... I needed out.”

"Is that so?" Jack's voice was dangerously calm as if he already knew the details, the truth of where Lawrence had been.

Maybe he wasn't as good as a liar as he thought.

“Where is she... Where is my Angel?” Jack finally spoke, his voice tense with emotion.

“She's gone, Jack.”

Jack fired a violent glare and his grip on the tumbler became increasingly pale. Lawrence was sure he saw a crack or two form on the crystal.

"Gone?" Jack hissed.

“I don’t know what happened... After you left... The Eridium, it just consumed everything,” Lawrence satisfied Jack with another one of his lies. His words feigning tenderness and sorrow. He leaned forward as he spoke, making sure not to break eye contact as he reached a hand forward.

“What?” Jack snarled, the anger that had consumed him before was replaced with something far more primal and deranged. Lawrence suddenly wished Jack was still mad at him over Nisha.

“You can see for yourself... I’ll come with you if you like.”

Lawrence moved again to reach Jack, but the other man just shuddered from fits of rage. It was a bluff, Jack would never return to her chamber, he couldn't witness what he knew he was responsible for.

Angel was right, Jack was a coward.

Jack finished his drink and set the tumbler down. “Ok... Let's go see her, I want to try and bury something of my little girl,” Jack slurred.

_ What? No. Fuck, fuck fuck. _

Lawrence's feet slid to the ground, he stepped around the bench to calm the violently shaking and grieving man. He moved forward and rested a hand on Jack's shoulder and felt the CEO's posture relax at the touch. Jack leaned into Lawrence, burying his head into his neck, seeking comfort. 

It had been a VERY long time since they had any kind of intimacy. Lawrence swallowed and kept his hand firm on Jack, diligently thinking of anything but Jack's warmth, his scent, his mouth on his skin, his... 

Lawrence drew a sharp breath and pulled Jack to his feet.

The two men shuffled to the exit of Lawrence's loft, his hand still on Jacks shoulder. It laid there monetary before Jack paused. Lawrence opened his mouth to question what was wrong, that was before Jack swung around and punched him hard, very hard.

“You were supposed to protect her!” Jack bellowed at him.

Lawrence took a few steps back but did not fall. He rubbed his jaw, fucking hell, Jack had clocked him under the chin. If Jack's drunken state hadn't hindered his swing, he was sure he'd have broken jaw. Jack dove for the gun on the bench and aimed it back at his chest.

“This is all your fault! I should've known you’d betray me too! You all have.”

For once Jack’s paranoia was almost on the money. Lawrence had betrayed him, but not in the way he thought.

“If you had just trusted me in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess!" Lawrence snapped. "Or maybe, if you haven't dumped me here! I could've helped! But you just  _ had _ to send me away! You just  _ had _ to do everything your way!”

He breathed heavily through his nose, despite his rage he kept his composure still. Lawrence didn't want to admit the truth in his words, but he knew some part of him felt betrayed. They confided everything to one another, why did he leave Angel out?

Jack just ignored him, “You’re just like the others!” he took another swaying step forward, his intoxication getting the better of him. The gun was wavering back and forth.

"Jack, don't do this," Lawrence tried to reason, but Jack cut him off.

He fired the gun at Lawrence's chest.

His shield absorbed the impact of the bullet, but his protection shattered as a result. Jack tore towards him. Lawrence reached for his gun, in a swift movement it was unholstered and aimed, but he didn’t shoot. Lawrence couldn’t pull the trigger, he couldn't shoot Jack. Despite all his reasonings, despite everything Lawrence told himself, how he despised him, hated what Jack had made him into. He still couldn't fire a gun at him.

Jack flung himself against him, and Lawrence took another step backwards, he blocked a sloppy swing but missed the kick to the shin which drove him to the ground. Lawrence stumbled to his knees. Jack was livid. His hair was stuck to his brow, slick with sweat, he was hunched over and ready to deliver another blow at him.

"Wait!" Lawrence tried to call, but his words were cut off as Jack landed a clean hit under his jaw.

He fell back, past the threshold of the loft and with a series of slick thuds he fell down the stairwell. His head hit the marble steps and his back into another. Collapsed at the bottom of the staircase he gasped for air before everything went black.

* * *

There was a sickening crack, but Jack paid it no mind.

He bounded down the stairwell and in seconds his hands were fast around Timothy’s throat. His double didn’t even respond as he pressed his thumbs down, crushing his windpipe. He wanted to see the life leave Timothy's body, he wanted to watch the colour drain from his face, watch his eyes turn red and lip's blue. He was responsible for his Angel's death! What did he do to stop it? Nothing.

Timothy was unresponsive, maybe he knew that Jack was right to punish him? He deserved it. They all did.

Timothy’s arms remained motionless on the cold floor. Not once did the double try to scrape at his arms to be released, or kick his legs to through Jack off. A sour feeling rose in his chest if Timothy wouldn’t fight back then what was the fucking point?

Timothy’s blank face barely twitched. Jack's eyes narrowed as he slowly let his hands go limp and pull away from his double's raw windpipe. The tips of his fingers were wet and painted red.

"Tim?"

A deep pool of blood had already formed around the back of Timothy’s head, and his neck was bent on a crude angle. Jack fumbled his words as he shook Timothy’s limp body, yet this only encouraged the blood to pool faster.

“Tim!”

A strained sigh left his double’s lungs. Timothy’s eyes remained closed, but his face stirred. He patted Timothy’s cheek far gentler than he intended.

“Get up! I’m not done with you yet, this is not how you die.”

He shook Timothy again, but the man just groaned from his attempt to spur some fight into him. With another pat of gentle encouragement, Timothy finally opened his eyes. Jack released the air he'd held captive with a long sigh and growled at Timothy to get up.

“I... I can’t,” Timothy mumbled as his eyes started to widen.

“What?”

“I can't move.”

Timothy’s eyes gazed down his body then up to Jack. His breathing was stunted and panic was drawing upon his face faster than his fall down the stairs. Jack picked up Timothy’s arm. He felt no resistance, just dead weight. He dropped it and watched as it instantly fell to his side. Timothy’s eyes were wide, despite his ragged breathing his chest barely moved. A cruel smile crept across Jack’s face as he picked up his double's arm again and tested its responsiveness.

“You cunt,” Lawrence hissed at him, “you broke my fucking back.”

Timothy leaned his head further to spit out more curses. A behaviour Jack had never been able to weed out.

“What have I told you about cursing," Jack snarled and pressed another thumb down on Timothy's windpipe.

“Fuhk yuoh,” Timothy gasped under the pressure.

Jack loosened his grip and resisted the urge to burst into hysterics. Timothy couldn’t move, he couldn't do shit. There were a lot of things he could do with this, some darker thoughts buzzed through Jack's mine. Oh, he could really  _ enjoy _ this. Though his plans for revenge dragged away as Timothy's breathing became shorter, and faster.

A damn panic attack. It had been a very long time since he'd seen one of these, a habit he thought he had weeded out long ago. 

He gave Timothy a light slap. “Oi, focus.”

“I can’t breathe,” Timothy heaved.

“You’re talking so you can breathe dum dum.”

“I can’t… Breathe... I can’t... I...” but the words were trailing away. Timothy was losing too much blood.

“Where are your health-kits?” Jack pulled himself off the floor and glanced up at Timothy's loft. "Tim!"

But the double was fading fast. Jack ran up the stairs back into the loft. He hadn’t noticed it so much when he first arrived, but Timothy’s place looked like it had been ransacked. The kitchen draws were pulled apart, clothes and sheets tossed around, and glass was littered along the floor.

A health-kit won't save him, it won’t replace the blood or fix his broken back, or neck, or whatever, Jack reasoned.

He accessed his gear chip and digitised the liquid Eridium that he still carried for Angel and for other emergencies. Spying an empty syringe by Timothy's bed, he grabbed it. Curiosity briefly emerged as to why it was there before he returned his attention to more pressing matters. This was going to be great, he’d get Timothy back on his feet and then see about strangling that pretty neck of his. Maybe repeat the process a few times. It wouldn't be a first. Happy with this new course of action Jack returned to Timothy’s side.

“Good news, not going to let you die today,” Jack lightly cheered as he cupped Timothy's face.

Timothy tried to jerk away from his touch, but he couldn't do much more than move his head. Jack placed the empty health-kit on the ground beside them and Timothy's eyes instantly drew wide and darting from the needle to Jack’s face. His double hated needles, getting his darn vaccinations was a month-long chore of coxing him into it.

“What are you doing?” Timothy strived to demand, but there was a tremor on the edge of his words.

Jack revealed the bottled Eridium from his lap and opened the cap, he dipped the end of the syringe in and drew the purple substance into the cylinder.

“No, no, no, no," Timothy rasped, his bright eyes bulged, and his jaw clenched tight.

Jack rubbed a tender hand over the side of his double face, to see him in such disarray made Jack run hot.

"Jack... Don’t do it,” Timothy's begs for mercy only made Jack lust for more.

Ignoring him and he swayed the syringe back and forth allowing the purple substance to glow.

“Another treatment will only make things worse!” Timothy implored. “Just let me go-” He stopped speaking, an odd expression that Jack couldn’t place was skewed across his pale face. Timothy looked like he had some sick sense of relation before he fidgeted his head away from Jack.

“Your back is broken. A health-kit alone is going to fix that,” Jack scolded him. He bit down on his tongue, resisting the urge to sneer in elation at his double’s panicked face.

“You know the drill, Timmy, you’re my double. Can’t have you broken like this,” Jack spoke, voice tender as he stroked the side of Timothy's face again.

When Timothy jerked away, Jack retracted his hand. So be it. He clamped down on Timothy's arm and folded the sleeves up. Deliberately taking his time to shove the cuffs of his shirt and bomber jacket up.

“Jack, I can’t go through it again."

He wrapped a firm hand around the top half of Timothy's bicep, tightening further so his vein would expose itself to him.

"It  _ killed _ me last time!” Timothy cried.

The look of plain horror on Timothy's face was the satisfaction Jack sought.

“The Doctors said no more Eridium, you’ll make everything worse,” Timothy continued to reason his case. But Jack paid him no mind. Did he honestly think he was going to leave him broken like this?

This was so much better than strangulation.

“Maybe so, Timtams.”

Jack gave his double a loving pat on the chest before he drove the needle into Timothy’s waiting vein.

Timothy screamed, and Jack just shone with glee.

“Fuck you, Fuck you, Jack!” Every curse imaginable escaped Timothy's lungs. “Just get it out! Get it out of my arm!” 

“That's right, you're a junkie who’s afraid of needles,” Jack scoffed slapping a hand on Timothy's thigh.

He withdrew the syringe and tossed it to the side, yet, made sure it remained in Timothy’s vision.

“I’m not a fucking junkie and it's not about the damn needle," Timothy’s tone was already softer as the Eridium pumped up his arm. "You made me... me like this,” his words were slurring.

“Yeah you just have a problem with dosage control” Jack sighed, “Which is a polite way of me saying you’re a junkie. I’ve had to take weeks off work for you, don’t let me remind you the state you were in last time,” Jack snarled.

Timothy had taken multiple Eridium treatments over the years. Every time there was a serve poisoning, assassination attempt or trauma Jack would make sure his double was fighting fit in no time. However, with each treatment, his body adapted and the dosage needed to be increased. The last serious treatment had proven too much.

The two of them were debriefing each other on their Atlas finds in the Dust, or lack of. Timothy was complaining about being contractually obliged to drink black coffee before he fell face first into the fountain. Timothy’s coffee had been laced with poison, which had been intended for him. It would have been a shallow watery grave for his double if Jack hadn’t acted fast. Dosing him up with Eridium his body was able to fight off the poison, but he may have given him too much. A week of intensive care probably confirmed that. When they started to wean Timothy off the Eridium, he became agitated, hostile and even violent. Jack found him overdosed in their apartment, curled up in a feverish wreck in the bathtub, and so started the long process of getting him clean. Until now.

“So, should I just leave this here?” Jack tossed his head to the side and held the Eridium bottle up so Timothy could see it. “You’re going to want it REAL bad when you wake up.”

“Asshole..." Timothy said as his head rolled to the side. He was no longer able to hold it up and administer his death stare at Jack.

“I’ll just leave it here so you can reach it when you can,” Jack gave him a toothy smile before he pushed himself off the cold marble floor.

"Get... back here,” Timothy tried to call, but the words barely made it out.

“Suck it up Timtams, when you wake up, you’ll wish I had strangled the life out of your pretty face.”

Jack towered over his double, nudging him with his boot.

“I’ll come back in a cycle to see how you're doing, that's if you haven't ransacked the Eridium supply from every mine in the area,” Jack chuckled as he straightened out his jacket.

“Jack! D-don't leave me...come... ba–ck...” Timothy's voice faded as the Eridium took him into a blissful state of repair.

Silence claimed the hallway as his double finally succumbed to the Eridium. Jack ran a hand over his chin, making note he needed to shave when he returned to Helios. He felt the soberest he'd been in days, Timothy always had that effect on him. Make him see reason.

He gave Timothy one last nudge with his shoe as a parting farewell, upon doing so, a soft glow caught his eye; Timothy's echo was active. Jack shot back down and grabbed the device from the belt. The receiver was on.

“Who is this?” Jack snarled, but the echo-comm remained silent.

* * *

“Who is this?”

Her dad’s voice snarled into the echo-comm receiver.

Angel yanked her palm away from the echo-comm and her consciousness with it. Her hands trembled as she placed the device down beside her.

Jack had spoken to her. The real Jack had talked to her.

Angel curled up on the cot shivering as she recalled the conversation she heard between the two men.

Why did her Dad call Lawrence, Tim? Was that his real name? And what relationship did he have with her Dad?

Angel had never heard anyone speak in that tone to Jack, let alone scold him, or fight him and live.

And did Lawrence really kill the Sheriff of Lynchwood?

If Angel had questions before she had hundreds now. She huddled up in the cot, hugging her shoulders as she tried to guess the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, Tim I'm pretty sure there's a word to describe your relationship with Jack. Two words actually and they both start with S. 
> 
> Heya if you've already left a kudos and are still trucking along with this fic, I'd love to hear from you in the comments! As I have no idea who's still reading this pile of agnst. More Agnst to come. 
> 
> As always love you for the kudos, follows, bookmarks and especially the comments. Yell out if you see any mistakes, this fic is my first and not beta read, cheers! xxx
> 
> Next week; Becoming Jack Part III, Lawrence tries to stand up to Jack. Jack responds in an unusual way. There's more surgery and blood and stuff.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	14. Becoming Jack Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include #non-con-surgery**

Movement hauled Lawrence's attention away from the barrel in his hand; Jack was approaching. His employer drove two large hands against the French doors and pushed them both inward. He marched into Lawrence's apartment with an air of certainty, as if it were his own home and Lawrence was the intruder. His masked features looked smooth, relaxed for once as he paced into the kitchen.

"Scotch?" Jack asked.

Lawrence continued to rub an oil stain cloth over the barrel of his sniper as he answered.

"We drank it all. I've ordered us more."

Jack cursed and crossed his arms. When Lawrence went ahead and ordered them more scotch, he discovered the drink cost his monthly income. Receiving anything shipped from Earth was a ridiculous expense. Though, there was nothing Jack could not get. If he wanted it, it was his.

"There's regular whiskey in the cupboard, from one of the Edens, I forget which one" Lawrence jerked his head over his shoulder, his hands too busy cleaning the compartments of the dismantled sniper to point.

"It better be from Eden-5," Jack grumbled.

Jack gave him a curt smile, as cold as it was, it still surprised him. He paced over and started rummaging through Lawrence’s cupboards. Jack pulled out two tumblers for them both, without asking, he poured Lawrence a generous amount. Another surprise, Jack was usually tight on Lawrence's drinking. Maybe word had finally got to him that he was well below his required body fat.

"My thanks," Lawrence accepted the glass.

"Really? _My thanks_?" Jack mocked, "what did I say about your vocab? Just say what's needed, or nothing at all."

Lawrence's grip on the sniper tightened, thankfully Jack didn't press the matter further. Jack's presence was a fierce itch that couldn't be defeated. He just had to endure; eventually, it will pass. Jack wandered back around the kitchen bench and propped himself up on the stool.

"We have a service that cleans those, you know?" Jack motioned to the dismantled sniper.

"I thought you were heading out tonight," Lawrence replied without looking up as he reached for a cloth that wasn't stained with oil.

Lawrence was confined to the apartment on most evenings, and was forbidden to leave when Jack was heading out 'on the town'. In his early days, he could enjoy a night or two at a bar drowning away the day with a drink, sometimes with a girl on his arm. It was surreal at first, the attention. Everyone listened to what he had to say, they lap up every gesture, word spoken as if he was the very air they breathed. Getting a girl was the simple part, keeping her an arms distance away was the hard part. All forms of romance were off the table, Jack had been very firm with that rule. Even a text or two and he'd snatch his echo away and destroy all evidence of the woman he'd been with. Since the (failed) sniper assassination, Jack's grip on him was relentless. It often gnawed at his sanity, not being able to roam as he pleased. He reserved mundane tasks, such as gun cleaning for those evenings, which was becoming every evening.

"Nisha cancelled," Jack admitted as he finished his drink and poured himself another.

_So that's why you're getting drunk in my apartment._

Jack always needed an audience. Without Nisha, Lawrence was second best.

Jack pulled out his echo, and his hand flicked across the screen, Lawrence heard him mumbled something about 'deadlines' and 'new contracts being needed'. There wasn't much Lawrence could respect in Jack, but his work ethic was something to be admired. Even at home he'd be working, drink in hand, coding in patches for the latest build, pushing through new deliverables ahead of schedule. Although silence could never prevail long with him, eventually Jack needed to hear his own voice again.

“Wrist laser not good enough anymore?" Jack caught his eye as he placed the echo down.

“I like my sniper,” Lawrence replied flatly.

He returned his gaze to his hands, cloth still working along the barrel. Quietly he growled at Jack, “maybe for once you could adapt your image to me?”

“That's _not_ how this works,” Jacks tone dropped. It was amazing how fast the atmosphere could change. Lawrence knew better; he should have just kept his mouth shut.

He was walking on some damn thin ice, but Lawrence only shrugged. His frustration overcame his fear, and with that, he sneered back to Jack, “then you go out and shoot. You can use whatever damn gun you like.”

“Ok princess, where's the attitude coming from?” Jack snapped.

Lawrence fired off the reasons to be pissed in his head like he was reciting a shopping list.

_One; you shoved a needle down my eye and nearly lobotomised me_

_Two; you burned my face with a brand, and now I can no longer see, let alone shoot._

_Three; I am your fucking meat sack for your glorified immortality project._

_Four; I can't go out when I please, I've not enjoyed the company of anyone else but you and Nisha for months. You-are-both-insane._

_Five; you keep me up at all hours of the night to learn your programming language, yet you don't let me work on any projects._

_Six; I need sex, dammit will you please let me leave the apartment._

Lawrence’s mind raced with all the reasons why he wanted to scream at his deranged housemate, despite his silent rage he let out a heavy sigh and opted to express thought number three.

“I can’t shoot with this damn eye,” he grumbled, "I mean I can. It's just not right."

Lawrence kept his attention focused on the sniper, he couldn’t stand to look Jack in the eye. He was sure the man was crushing his tumbler in his hand, that shards of glass were moments away from flying across the room. Lawrence expected Jack to reply with something like, ‘tough cookies’ or ‘suck it up kiddo’. Maybe he'd even draw the needle out again. However, the masked man just returned the sigh before responding in a tight tone.

“Just ask then.”

“What?” Lawrence snapped his attention back to Jack.

Jack didn’t reply, his gaze was firm, and his eyes wielded that wild glint when he dared Lawrence to strike back.

Was this a trick? A game? Jack hated games, he didn't have the patience for them. Lawrence thought he knew what Jack wanted him to say, but the admission terrified him. Lawrence was tense, yet his employer looked relaxed as ever, despite his glare.

“Can...I, um have a cybernetic eye?” The words left Lawrence awkwardly, and he felt the colour fade from his face.

“Not if you ask like that,” Jack snickered as he took another deep sip of his drink.

Right, of course.

“How soon can I get a cybernetic eye?” Lawrence replied promptly and sternly, using the same inflection Jack used when he wanted something.

Jack barked out laughing, “Oh god, look at you!” He cheered.

Jack gestured for him to take a swig of his drink, after doing, so he carried on with mock laughter. It made Lawrence so on edge he wanted to vomit. He carried on for a moment longer, wiping away non-existent tears from his eyes.

“Sure champ, you can get a cybernetic eye.”

Lawrence's brow knitted together as he rubbed the inside of his palms with his thumb. The last time he was under the knife was to treat the burn across his face, and he left with more than a few bandages.

Jack had made sure the message stuck, that if he didn't become his perfect Jack, there was an endgame waiting for him. Lawrence found his hand on the back of his neck, he tried to pass it off as an itch and ran his hand through his hair.

“Only thing,” Jack cocked his head to the side and considered Lawrence for a moment before continuing, “you want the eye, you gotta be awake during the whole procedure."

“What? Hell no!”

Lawrence retaliated and slammed a hand down on the bench sending the scope of his sniper rolling off the edge. Forgetting all past worries about AI's and erasure. Jack didn't even flinch. Instead, his face drew up with a dark grin. Satisfaction swept over his features as Lawrence considered his options. Cybernetic eye surgery was inevitably going to involve a lot of needles down his eye socket. Jack knew his phobias well, and Lawrence's recent close encounter with them hadn't helped his fears. Nothing came on a silver platter from Jack, no, it had to be tainted in some way.

“You want it, you gotta do it my way,” Jack pressed.

Lawrence gritted his teeth together, Jack assumed he’d say no, that his fear of needles would sway him otherwise. Jack was a fool if he hadn’t realised that Lawrence was as stubborn as he was. If anything he was the stubborn one, he'd held out this long. How many people could claim they could endure Handsome Jack? Lawrence had, and he planned on continuing. Despite whatever plans of revenge he may have had, surviving and getting his sight back was a greater need.

And seeing the AI, just a glimpse of it was enough to throw water on any firey plans of retaliation.

“Fine, I'll do it,” Lawrence grounded.

Jack's face twitched, it was a snippet of something fierce before he relaxed and gave Lawrence a wide grin.

"It'll take a while to get everything set up," Jack muttered, "leave it with me, I'll call the surgeon", and he stalked off.

* * *

Ok so, Jack could be reasonable. Lawrence had known the game for some time, yet it burying all empathy to be able to play along was no easy feat. The rules; don't blink when Jack asks you to kill, don't speak when he throws your life into battle, enjoy it with a smile, even if you're washed in blood, be thankful.

It was working, Jack was happy. He went back to his frat boy persona, there were no more threats of needles or AI's. They enjoyed their drinks together, sometimes they even laughed at the expense of some employee. Everything was moving along as smoothly as it could.  

So Lawrence voiced grievance number six.

"I need to get laid."

His confession seemingly made Jack choke on his meal. Lawrence raised a brow, it wasn't like it was an unusual topic. His employer could scarcely stop claiming how often he 'tapped' that, or was seeing some pretty bird, or how the new cute intern looked bent over his desk. (Jack was off limits to the HR department. Honestly, he could give them a years amount of work in a single day). Those were just the details outside of Nisha. From sound alone, Lawrence could practically envision what was going on between them.

So what if Lawrence wanted to follow suit.

“I’ll sort something out,” Jack buried his face in his meal and Lawrence returned to his.

‘Sort something out' meant a woman - an escort he presumed - would be joining him in his apartment at nine.

When she arrived, Lawrence had already consumed three drinks. Liquid courage was needed tonight, and his guest had nothing to do with it. No, Lawrence suspected his housemate would make some god awful appearance. He couldn't deal with that sober and so he poured himself a fourth drink and offered her one.

She was gorgeous, dark hair, skin tone to match, a round face and full lips. Lawrence knew who she resembled but said nothing of it.

He forgot her name in about ten minutes, and when she was finished with her drink, he didn't bother with any more pleasantries. He took her to his room, and he fucked her. She yelled Jack's name, as he bent her over like one of his interns. Her cries muffled as he buried her face in the pillow. He came; exhausted he fell into the sheets. She didn't stay long after that, he had no idea how long Jack paid her for, but he was glad when she got up to leave.

Unsurprisingly Jack pressed him for details.

"Did she suck you off? Or get right into it? Was she into any kinky shit? Nah she couldn't have been, she was gone in like under an hour. You better not be ruining my image with a piss poor performance."

Lawrence rolled his eyes and told him he "wouldn't let him down."

So, it became a routine; she'd come over every Thursday. The second evening started and ended exactly like the first, on the third date, he finally remembered her name; Caitlin. On the forth, she may have actually came, up until that point he'd assumed all her cries in pleasure were fake. They had to be, Lawrence wasn't generous, was that Jack's doing? Had he always been this inconsiderate? He didn't know.

She told him how handsome he was, Lawrence internally rolled his eyes but played along. He needed the intimacy, no matter how crude and selfish it was. Lawrence forced himself to spend a little more time on her pleasure, but only slightly. Jack ran him into the ground, he would often finish work as she walked in the door. He didn't have the time to be concerned for someone else. Plus she was being paid, right?

Then she got his echo-frequency, she must have stolen it when he passed out. Jack would be furious, 'no romance' were the rules and Lawrence had no intention of breaking it. She sent him message after message. Lawrence ignored them all, and he hastily put the echo on silent to relieve any suspicion from Jack. When Jack left for a meeting with the head of RND team, Lawrence had five minutes to himself before he was meant to meet with a dev-ops unit. He opened up one of the twenty-something messages she had left him. His eyes scanned the contents, Lawrence re-read it, again and again. His blood turned to sluggish ice, his heart froze, and the echo-comm fell from his grasp.

No this couldn't happen.

That evening he was drunk, drunker than he'd ever been. Two-thirds of the scotch were gone, he shouldn't have drunk the good stuff. The good stuff was worth too much. It was worth more than him.

His hand knocked the glass before it found it's way around it, ignoring his previous thoughts Lawrence downed the rest of the drink. The lights were dulled to their evening setting, he couldn't be bothered to restore them. So there he sat face buried on the kitchen bench, drunk in the dark. Jack would be home soon. He'd have to tell him.

Lawrence swallowed down the drink or bile that threatened to come back up. His stomach was in knots, and his brow was slick with sweat. He counted down the minutes to when Jack would be home. Eventually, the pleasant chime of the elevator opening told him the countdown was over. The sound, as soft as it was, did not envoke pleasant thoughts. Wearily he pushed himself up on the stool, his gaze swayed as it settled on the french doors; eyeing the common room beyond. Jack went straight to his apartment, he didn't even look across at Lawrence's door.

'Come back', he mouthed.

When he tried to stand up he fell to the ground, the sound of the stool crashing behind him brought Jack to him. He wasn't pleased.

"What the hell!"

Lawrence heard his heavy footsteps march towards him, rough hands picked him up and leaned him against the bench.

"You're drunk, and It's a damn work night, you're heading to Pandora tomorrow morning! What the hell were you thinking?"

Jack grasped his hands onto Lawrence's face and steered him, so their bi-coloured eyes met. It was over at that point. No amount of liquid courage could save him.

"Please don't do it."

"Do what," Jack leered over him.

"The needle, my eye, don't do it. Please"

Jack's grip twitched, his thumb dug into Lawrence's jaw.

"I won't have to as long as you don't give me a reason."

When Lawrence didn't respond, Jack pressed him.

"What did you do?"

Lawrence succumbed to the fragile emotions he'd suppressed for so long. He didn't blink so the tears wouldn't be pushed down his face, but his eyes stung from staring for so long. Lawrence was thankful for the darkness.

When Jack didn't speak, Lawrence realised that was more terrifying. His body extracted a sob. He was ruined now, tainted. Jack would need to fix him, punish him.

"Come on," Jack's tone smoothed out effortlessly, from years of practice. Yet, his grip on Lawrence was as tight as ever.

He dragged him into his apartment. Lawrence's mind screamed at him to crumble his weight to the ground. But Jack led him on, like a chain around his neck Lawrence couldn't do anything but follow.

"Why the waterworks?" Jack growled as he fetched a glass of water.

He was sitting on Jack's couch, even though it was identical to his own, as was the layout, his surroundings felt foreign. Dread dripped from every corner which should have resonated a familiar presence.

Jacks calloused hands shoved the glass into Lawrence's face, but he didn't move to hold it. Instead, he slouched into his prefered position, shoulders caved in, and his head bowed in his hands. He could swear he heard Jack grind his teeth, but his employer said nothing. It took a long time for Lawrence to find his courage, he didn't know how he could possess such a fierce determination in battle. Maybe it was all adrenaline. However, a confession to Jack was his own sentence. He might as well have lined himself up under his own axe.  

"The escort..." Lawrence finally slurred.

"Is that what this is all about? Bloody hell if she's no good I'll get you a new one. For fuck's sake." Jack got up from beside him, convinced the matter was settled.

"She's pregnant," Lawrence called to him.

Jack immediately halted his departure. He pivoted on the spot to look him in the eye. It took a moment for Lawrence to gather what was happening, but eventually, he realised Jack was shaking; with laughter.

"With you!?" He gave Lawrence a wide grin.

Jack must have misheard, misunderstood.

"She's tested, I saw the results, its mine. She's threatening to go to the papers, she's demanding money, she has a lawyer, Jack."

"Oh honey," Jack whined and trailed back over. Sitting next to him on the couch, he placed a hand against Lawrence's tear-stained cheek. The gesture was a mockery of intimacy, and it made him want to be sick.

"It's not yours," Jack smiled.

"Wh...what?"

How could he be so sure?

"I already took care of matters, when we did all that" Jack's other hand gestured to Lawrence's face and down his body.

"You did what?"

"You can't have kids," Jack sighed, evidently getting impatient explaining himself. "God forbid anyone thinks Handsome Jack can have kids and they come out looking pre-you."

Lawrence didn't know what to say. He'd never been in a steady relationship to ever consider kids. Even if he wanted to wing it on his own, his debt had made it financially impossible. But to have it taken away, the choice, it mortified him. Jack still held a hand to Lawrence's face, he wanted to pull away. It left him feeling cut open. Like a frog, strung up, dissected in a classroom in front of an audience.

He'd felt this before.

After he'd fought back, after he’d attempted to jam that needle down Jack’s throat. Jack had taken him to R&D and booted up the computer to reveal his immortality project; project  Tartarus . Lawrence had cried, he had begged, not to let himself be erased. Not to be replaced with that thing.

He told Jack he'd be perfect, he'd become his perfect Jack.

Jack only laughed and showed him the AI, and then he revealed the port concealed under a layer of skin on the back of his neck.

Another non-consensual surgery, another mark on him that claimed him as Jack's. What else had he done? Who else knew?

Lawrence trembled under Jack's hand, he wished he had permission to leave, but he wasn't done yet. Jack moved the conversation along, unaware that Lawrence was still trying to process the changes to his body.

"Now, the matter of the escort. Whatever 'test' the slut got done was bullshit. Trust me, I made sure every part of you down there was tied up. The bub isn't yours. But we can't have her running her yap."

Jack's hand moved down and rested on Lawrence's shoulder, his grip firm.

"This problem is your making, you let her think she could manipulate you, use you. No one does that with us, got it?"

"Go deal with it."

Lawrence knew that tone. He knew what 'deal with it' meant.

"Tonight," Jack's tone was firm, cold, it wasn't human sounding.

"I...I can't. She...she...."

"You don't want me to do this for you," Jack warned.

Oh god, he didn't want Jack to do it. It would be messy, brutal, he'd drag it out, make her suffer. Lawrence shook under Jack's grasp, another sob was on the verge of leaving him.

Jack only sighed, "maybe you're not ready for these kinds of...interactions" Jack's tone was considerate, but Lawrence knew better.

"Look how worked up you are, you let one little wench get to you. Maybe you need some time to find your self again."

Jack's tone alluded to only one thing; being locked in the apartment for days on end. Removed from everyone, no interactions, no conversations, no echo-comm, not even Jack. Just him and his miserable thoughts.  

"No, no, no Jack, sir, I'll be good. I'll do it."

"I don't think you can," Jack gritted his teeth.

When Lawrence didn't respond Jack forced him into the head of the couch. Jack's hands momentarily pinned him down, something flickered across his face, before Lawrence could register what he'd seen it was gone. Jack held him in place long enough for Lawrence to admit defeat.

"Sober up."

"Wait," Lawrence started, but he didn't dare chase after him.

* * *

Lawrence passed out on Jack's couch, his intoxication was his blanket from Helios's chilled air. The same pleasant chime he'd heard hours earlier rang out. The lights were still dimmed to their lowest settings, but he could never mistake Jack's silhouette.

He strolled back in, his pace casual as if he'd had a relaxing dinner and drinks with friends. Except, Jack didn't' relax, and he had no friends. Lawrence shut his eyes, it was childish to pretend to be asleep, but he did so anyway.

Jack saw through it, he walked over and soon after a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Remember, I'll always take care of us."

Jack let his hand linger, his fingers brushed through Lawrence's hair.

"Go to bed," he commanded his voice gravelly.

When Jack left, Lawrence pried his eyes open. His shirt stuck to his shoulders and was oddly damp and sticky. A blood red stained handprint was pressed onto his collar from where Jack's hand had rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya new subscribers! Thanks for joining x love to hear from you xxx also, Sorry/Not sorry for so many angsty chapters in a row. It wasn't originally planned to be like this, this extra flashback scene made the two timelines met up like this.
> 
> NEXT WEEK; Tim has a bad hangover/day
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	15. Addiction & Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for this chapter #consent-issues #drug-addiction #drug-induced-consent**

Lawrence stirred on the ground something sharp scratched against his skin. Was he lying on sandpaper? Glass? A deep groan escaped his throat as the sharp substance continued to rake at his skin. 

His mind was flooded with images of Jack and Eridium. A fight they had...or was it about something else? He couldn’t recall the details. 

Lawrence ran a hand over his shoulders expecting to feel his holster and shirt, instead, he felt clammy, sweat coated skin. He opened his eyes and unclenched the fits he had unknowingly held tight. His knees were against his bare chest, pants were torn and covered in the irritable substance. Every movement produced jarring pain, his muscles protested as he lifted himself up onto his knees and the palms of his hands. His head hung low, still unable to crane his neck up to see where he was. His body was racked with shallow sharp breaths, and he could feel the sweat on his brow dripping down. He rested on the palms on his hands for a good minute before he could shift into a kneeling position. He stretched his head up and tried to take in the details to get a sense of where he was.

The smell hit him hard, Lawrence felt his stomach spasm, but nothing came up. He dry retched as the odour of a decaying corpse reached all his senses. He slowly tilted his head to find the source of the stench, a large figure lay face first on the floor. His body covered in dark purple crystals. Lawrence squinted trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

He demanded his legs to work, to get himself off the floor and away from the dead body but they resisted. Instead, his muscles shook feverishly, and Lawrence just hugged his bare shoulders trying to calm his protesting body. Another long minute passed before he could work his legs, he clenched his eyes shut and heaved as he pushed himself off the floor. Lawrence swayed on the spot as his body adjusted to the new position, his head in his hands unable to open his eyes. Exposing his body to another sense would be too much, but he needed to know where he was, who was lying on the floor. Slowly he made awkward shuffles forward, his nose guiding him the corpse. His feet kept getting caught up in the crystal substance below, when the stench became unbearable he opened his eyes. 

It was Roland.

Lawrence let out a long curse, he was in Angel’s chamber. He suddenly felt he had more control of his senses, with an aching neck he turned around to examine where he had woken up. A syringe full of a crusted crystal residue laid on the floor. The Eridium that had once pooled in the chamber had now crystalised, Lawrence swallowed down his shame. He knew full well why he was here, in his delirious state he must have sought out more Eridium. Lawrence glanced down at his bare arm, it was raw, maybe even infected. The purple crusted substance covered his skin, he must have tried to shoot up the crystals once he ran out of the liquid formula. 

He wanted to scream. 

Lawrence hung his head, unable to distinguish the turning in his gut from shame or withdrawals. How long had he been here? His mind struggled to recount the events, why was he here again? His eyes scanned the room and fell onto the place Angel had been resting when he found her.

_ Angel...Angel! _

_ How long was it since I left her? Did I leave her enough food? Water? Eridium? _

Lawrence mind lingered on the thought of Eridium if he just had some more maybe he could pull himself together. He was sure he could control it then he could get back to her. The rational part of him declared that 'he couldn't control it'. But Lawrence dismissed it. He turned a little too quickly and felt the world spin at a crude angle. Once regaining his balance, he slowly shifted through the carnage back to his loft. 

Lawrence noticed he was holding something. He’d unconsciously picked up the syringe and was rolling it over his fingers. 

_ I’ll just keep it for now. _

The lights in the hallway to his loft wore down on him, his body felt more exposed than before, and he bowed his head as he trudged towards the staircase. The very staircase Jack had thrown him down, the memories were shifting to the forefront of his mind. There was an empty bottle of Eridium, the one he had begged Jack to not leave behind. His shirt was on the ground as well as what he assumed was bile. 

He rubbed a hand down his exposed back, feeling more bone than he should. Jack had broken it, crippled him, Lawrence’s breathing turned sharp as he recalled how Jack gleefully exposed him to the Eridium. He made it to the top of the stairs and collapsed onto his knees and palms once he breached the entrance to his loft. The door was thankfully open, he didn't think he could have stood still to permit the security door to scan him. He shuffled forward, careful not to step in the broken glass that littered the floor. The edge of his vision was growing black, but he pushed on, crawling to the center of the room. He reached the island bench in the kitchen and leaned against it to push air through his lungs. He closed his eyes to let the darkness claim him and then pass. He needed energy, sugar, more Eridium, something. He couldn’t go on like this.

Lawrence laid there for god knows how long, his neck was aching from his slumped shoulders and head. He might have passed out, he couldn't recall. He had absolutely no concept of time, was it hours? Days? Since he left Angel. Lawrence shifted his shoulders to get comfortable against the legs of the bench, an irritable pain shot up his arm. He’d been scratching at his flesh, the inside of his arm was raw, and blood was under his nails. 

_ If I found some more Eridium just a little bit, I can make it back to Angel.  _

Lawrence pushed his back against the bench and forced his legs to heave himself up off the floor. Standing for the first time in his loft he could witness the destruction, it was totally trashed. Every draw was pulled apart along the floor, some cupboard doors had been completely ripped open, all of the stools were along the floor, some with missing legs, the screens to the balcony all smashed. The worst part, he had no recollection of ever being in his loft. 

An empty pizza box and about a dozen empty beer bottles were on top of his kitchen bench, he at least knew that wasn't there before. His echo-comm was sitting next to it, with a sticky note attached.

  
  


_ Play me :)  _

  
  


Lawrence couldn’t tell if it was his handwriting or Jacks, over the years they’d became one and the same. Shame wanted him to delete the recording, but his curiosity urged him to click play. He tilted his head to check he was alone, it wouldn’t surprise him to find Jack hiding in a corner, watching him succumb to his games.

He held a purple stained finger down on the device and hit play.

Jacks face lit up on the screen, he was holding the device in front of him, filming himself as he walked through his loft. Between mouthfuls of pizza, he spoke with eagerness and delight.

“Tim! You’re awake, good for you,” Jack swung around the room, and Lawrence's kitchen spun in the background, “Now ask yourself how many times have you played this video?” Jack’s smile was wide, “this may not even be the first time you’ve made it back to reality”.

Lawrence didn’t want to dig the memories forward, he was happy being ignorant. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t hit bring himself to stop the video. 

“I found you in the storage supply cupboard last time, totally mess you were. Get this, you were trying to find Eridium in a mop bucket.”

Lawrence gripped the echo-comm tighter. 

“Real glad I refrained from killing you, this is sooooo, so, so much better! Here take a look at yourself.”

The camera turned and revealed a dishevelled Lawrence curled up on his bed. He was scrunched up in amongst the sheets, shirt missing, his foot slowly rubbed his other ankle and his eyelids looked heavy. With wide pupils, the other-Lawrence stretched out a lopsided hand to reach for Jack. 

“Awww look at you, sweet kitten” Jack had cooed to him.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, the camera still filming other-Lawrence’s drug-induced state. 

His other self, opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sloppy smile. Jack had chuckled at his slurred attempt at a greeting and ran a hand from his neck into other-Lawrence's hair. His past self only pushed his head into the touch, welcoming Jack to his side.

“You're so much better behaved like this before you were all Jack put down the gun, Jack don't do this, Jack don't do that.”

One of Jacks long bronze fingers played down other-Lawrence's jaw and over the inflamed red marks across his neck from where Jack had crushed his windpipe. 

“Shame, I need you back home soon, I think a few more days of bliss will sort you out,” Jack's tone was soft as he continued to trace his fingers over Lawrence's neck. 

Other-Lawrence's bare back was exposed to the camera, Jack examined the scars he'd endured on behalf of the CEO. Most were from assassination attempts, others from bandits and some from Jack himself.

“What happened here?” Jack’s hand had lingered over the thick scar that bore into other-Lawrence's upper arm. 

Lawrence held the echo-comm closer, he recognised it as the sniper wound from his trek across no-mans-land, thankfully his past self-didn’t answer. 

The camera jerked upwards and span around before settling down onto Lawrence's bedside table. Both of Jack’s hands were free, and he wasted no time putting them both to use against the other-Lawrence. 

“You know why I had to break you, don't you?" Jack wrapped a hand around Lawrence's neck. 

"You misbehaved running away like that,” Jack whispered low, as he leaned further down onto Lawrence's past self. Jack's head was inches from Lawrence's ear, “you understand, don't you?" 

Other-Lawrence just gave a slow nod and fumbled a 'yes' before he arched his back and leaned further into Jacks touch. His past self attempted to swing an arm over Jack, but his movements were sloppy, and he only managed to pull him into a loose hug. Jack recognised the invitation and lifted himself off the bedside and lowered himself on top of Lawrence, his hands grabbed at his double's hips and held him down into the sheets. The rest of Jack's body pressed into him, despite the aggressive position Jack only planted soft kisses down Lawrence's neck. He worked slowly kissing the nape of his neck, over his collarbone and lingering over the mark made from the sniper assassination attempt. Jack pressed a love bite into the mark, and other-Lawrence pulled his hands through Jack's hair encouraging him to move closer, humming from the attention. Eventually, slow slurred words escaped him, “don't leave me here again” Lawrence mumbled.

Other-Lawrence whispered something else, and Jack had only sneered in response before pressing their lips together. Their kiss was long and passionate, Jack made an embarrassingly long moan as he grasped at Lawrence's hair. Both their breathing became shaper, cries louder, and their grasps more impatient as they pressed into one another. 

Jack snapped, he threw himself up and tossed his coat over his shoulders. Lawrence tried to follow him up, but Jack held him in place.

"Stay put, Tim, you can touch all you want in a moment."

Only when Jack had discarded his layers did he permit Lawrence to move. His hands claimed every part of Jack and other-Lawrence pushed further into him. Jack was not a patient man, his hands grew more eager as they found their way under Lawrence's belt and he gave no protest, only a moan in satisfaction. He whispered again in Lawrence's ear, and Lawrence replied with a slurred, ‘yes’.

Jack turned back to the camera and gave it a sly wink before he unbuckled Lawrence's belt and lowered his pants. 

The present Lawrence clenched the echo-comm, and his stomach felt knotted in a dozen places. Jack had come back to toy with him and in his Eridium blissful state he’d shamefully welcomed it. He placed the echo-comm down and slid back to the ground, head bowed. He’d forgotten to hit stop on the video as now his own slurred words of pleasure called out through the device. Lawrence gritted his teeth and tried not to chew his tongue as he listened to himself be satisfied by Jack. Thankfully, it seemed Jack did not follow through with his desires, his past self grew quieter, he was most likely too far gone for anything fun to happen. Silence prevailed for a long time, and Lawrence fought the urge to be sick. Eventually, his past self spoke out again, “you’re not...leaving are you?”

“Sorry Timtam, gotta head back and run a business, you know?” Jack huffed.

Lawrence begged again in protest.

Jack chuckled, “can't take you with me, I’ve already had to remove a dozen doctors from my service because of you. I’m not fond of having all of Helios thinking Handsome Jack has a drug problem.”

“I’ll be good,” other-Lawrence's voice trembled as he pled to Jack and the present Lawrence felt repulsed by his tone. He could practically see Jack's smirking face as he replied, voice heavy with affection, “I’m sure you would, but it's time for me to go.”

“No, please?” other-Lawrence carried on. It didn't sound like him at all; high pitched and desperate.

“Oh god,” Jack had spoken in a hot and heavy sigh, “just look at you,” he whispered low. 

“You have no idea, how fucked you are and how fucking awesome that is,” Jack’s breathing was audible on the tape and Lawrence could only imagine what the man wanted to do to him further. 

He wasn’t sure what his past self had done next, but Jack burst out laughing. 

“Stop that, now I really wish I could stay, but another time ok?”

He heard the sheets ruffle and other-Lawrence beg Jack to stay one last time before the echo-comm went silent.

Lawrence couldn’t bow his head any lower, his chin rested against his chest, and the palms of his hands dug into the sockets of his eyes. Jack had got his revenge, Lawrence was weak, full of guilt and shame and worst of all Jack knew he'd enjoyed it.

He had to get out of here, now while his mind was set on freeing himself. Remaining on the floor, he reached up behind him and pulled down his echo-comm. With shaking fingers, he dialled the frequency to the comm residing in the safe house. What was he going to tell Angel? How could he face her like this? But he needed to hear her voice, something to convince himself to move out of the loft, to get away from Eridium and Jacks sick shit-show.

It only rang twice before Angel's voice burst out of the comm-speaker.

“Lawrence? Where are you?” her tone stern but tinged with concerned.

Lawrence bit down on his tongue, his chest spasmed and a soft cry left his chest he placed a hand over the microphone to prevent Angel from hearing him before he responded.

“I’m fine. I’m coming back now,” Lawrence heaved with sharp breaths, he couldn’t do this.

He hung up the call. 

His head banged against the bench behind him, the sharp thud momentarily drew the pain away from the rest of his body. He needed a way out, he needed to go now, but his body was content with staying put.

Angel dialled back, but he didn’t answer. 

_ If there was just more Eridium, I could do this. I just need something to get me going. _

After all this time he still had the syringe in his hand, but the chamber was completely empty. He wanted to throw it away, but his hand refused to move. Instead, he pocketed it into his pants. He was a mess, no shirt, pants torn and coated in crystal dust, his arms raw and covered in dark slag induced veins. 

He had to go now. 

He leaned against the bench as he did before and used its stable structure to push himself up. He swayed over to his bedroom, which was equally destroyed as the kitchen. The sheets on his bed were thrown to the ground, stains covered the mattress protector. Another bottle of Eridium laid on the ground, he had no clue if Jack had supplied it to him or if he’d scavenged it himself. With a few more disjointed steps he made it to his dresser, finally getting a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked awful. His collarbone stuck out more than usual, weight had already left his sides, his eyes were red and heavily sunken. Purple stained half his body where he had collapsed in Angel's chamber and his hair stuck out on all angles. He had tiny bruises splattered across his body, his neck was far worse it was a deep purple and green from where Jack had held him, and there were other markings he didn’t want to acknowledge. He couldn’t endure it any longer, so he pulled out a draw and tried to find something to hide his broken body. Gathering up clean clothes Lawrence swayed towards the bathroom. He needed a shower to rid himself of his past self. 

The hot water flushed over him, purple and red pooled below him and created a marbling effect as it spiralled down the drain. His head rested against the cool black tiles, eyes closed as the pressure from the shower rained down his back. He kept finding himself rubbing at his arm and had to shake it away. He stood there trying to regain strength in his legs, he was sure if he laid down again he would never get back up. He didn’t even have the energy to wash, so he waited there head bowed for the water to run the Eridium and shame off him. 

Only when his skin was wrinkled, soaked through and the hot water hand run out did he emerge from the steam filled room. His clothes felt irritable against his skin. 

His workstation wasn’t spared from his destructive scavenging. The computer was thrown to the floor. His boots crunched down on the glass as he wandered back to the kitchen.  Did he get Felicity’s data? He couldn’t remember, Jack had interrupted, and the details after that eluded him.

A shudder shook his spine, and he winced when he recalled the crude angle in which he had laid when it was broken. 

Lawrence glanced at the wall clock, grumbled a curse when he saw the time and date signature, it had been three cycles, a full Pandoran day since he left Angel. He finally found his holster and gear chip in amongst the sheets on the ground.

He checked the pizza box before leaving, Jack had eaten everything but the crusts, typical. Lawrence took a stale piece from the leftovers and reluctantly made his way to the fast station. He’d never let anyone else, but Jack see him in this state. His arm throbbed as he slowly set the coordinates to make his way back to Angel. 

He just hoped he could get through this. 

* * *

Lawrence was drenched in sweat, and he struggled to pull the layers off over his head. Angel had pressed him with question after question as he walked (stumbled) back into the safe house. He discarded his holster onto the desk, without any concern for Angel seeing his bare chest his shirt followed suit.

Angel's insistent questioning continued as he flopped down onto the cot. She could take the floor, he honestly didn’t give a fuck, he needed the bed. 

“What happened?” She pressed again. 

“It's fine,” was all he could manage as he buried his face into the pillow. 

“You were gone for three cycles,” she replied flatly. Lawrence was sure if he turned to face her she would have her arms crossed, and be wearing an expression reminiscent of his mother.

“Its fine, it's all ok, ok?” He grumbled into the sheets, eyes tightly shut as his body shook with the oncoming fever.

“Tim! Tell me what happened,” Angel implored.

“Wh-what? How do you know that name?” Lawrence jerked his head up from the confines of the pillow. Angel did indeed have her arms crossed, and she did look disappointed. 

When she didn't reply Lawrence snapped, "whatever, don’t call me that,” and he returned to drowning himself amongst the sheets. 

“Did you see Jack?”

“Arhhhh Angel, dammit, leave me be,” Lawrence groaned.

Angel huffed and stepped away from the cot. 

_ Thank fuck, _ Lawrence cried internally. His fists were clenched tight, and his stomach felt like spewing bile all over the cot. The withdrawals were going to hit hard, Lawrence knew he wasn't equipped to deal with this. He could only hope Angel was.

* * *

By the end of the cycle, Lawrence still hadn't addressed any of her questions. He'd only turned and groaned in the cot. She didn't need to raise a hand to his head to know he was wrecked with a fever. She tried to press him to drink water, to get fresh air, but her efforts only got curses in return. He even told her to 'fuck off'. Jack never swore, and rarely snapped at her in such a manner.

She considered letting Nyx or Crake talk some sense into him, but honestly, she couldn't stand the thought of the container being filled with the voices of three Jacks. Instead, she busied herself with Felicity. Whilst Lawrence had been indisposed at the Bunker she'd gone and restored Felicity's circuits. The bot was active again, Angel conveyed her frustration about Lawrence, and she replied with a high pitched beep that could only mean she agreed. Her next mission was sorting through the code Lawrence had recovered. Hopefully, she could put her back together.

Her Dad's double didn't even notice when she snatched his echo-comm to retrieve the code. He was borderline delirious, the sheets were drenched, and his breathing was ragged. She could have sworn he'd mumbled Jack's name, the very thought that he wanted Jack made her face screw up. She bit her tongue and resisted the urge to dump a glass of cold water on to him.

Whatever transpired at the Bunker Angel believed it was better she didn't know. Yet, there was a video on his echo-comm, the time stamp revealed it was taken while he was absent. Angel debated for some time whether to click play. Eventually, her curiosity overwhelmed her. She needed to know.

Clicking play, she watched on as Jack had filmed himself, indulging in pizza and dancing around the room. When he asked Lawrence (who he called Tim) to take a look at himself she froze. Her tiny heart fidgeted in her chest as the camera turned to land on Lawrence. There he was, disoriented on the bed, shirtless, and barely coherent. He'd smiled at Jack, beckoned him to come over.

Angel stopped the video, she didn't need to see this. She didn't want to know.

She looked over at the Lawrence present in the container. He was shaking violently among the sheets, his face buried in the pillow. But she could still make out the green and purple marks on his neck. 

Sighing, Angel accepted that it was late in the cycle. She'd already resigned to the fact she'd be taking the floor tonight. She would almost feel sorry for him if he hadn't been so rude. Despite his cruelty, Jack was at least polite towards her, even gentle when he wanted something. Lawrence, however, acted like he was raised in a barn. 

She lifted herself up and bid Felicity goodnight, who gave a low hum in return. Angel prayed for a dreamless sleep, and one uninterrupted by Lawrence's restlessness. She bitterly thought of the cardboard mattress she'd be sleeping on as she gathered up a coat to shape into a pillow. Sleep truly wanted to claim her, as she didn't wake when Lawrence climbed past her. Only when the container door swung open did she stir. Felicity frantically beeped, and Angel threw herself up. The silhouette of Lawrence stumbled outside.

"Lawrence!" 

Angel crawled under Felicity and made her way outside, the Pandora sun was breaking. Basking the highlands in a beautiful red glow. She couldn't recall the last time she watched a sunrise, a real sunrise too. One that wasn't through a holo-screen. Best of all, Pandora sunrises lasted hours. Angel wished she could have enjoyed the moment, but Lawrence was content on ruining it with his dry retching. He was curled forward, on his hands and knees as he coughed. Angel hadn't noticed his arms before, he'd wrapped himself up so quickly in the sheets that she didn't have a chance to assess his condition. Not that Lawrence would let her. The veins on his arms were a dark purple, they ran all the way up and protruded on his neck. 

_ Slag _ , she bitterly thought. 

She cautiously stepped towards him, he caught sight of her approaching shadow and let out a long groan as he realised she was behind him. When she kneeled down beside him, she could feel the heat radiate from his back. Scars were littered between the slag infested veins on his arms. His back was bruised and white lines, older fainter scars ran down his spine. As if someone had whipped or scratched the skin raw. They looked so old as if he'd received them when he was a teenager or younger.

When she gently rubbed his shoulders, he flinched, but he kept his head bowed between his arms.

"Go back to bed," he croaked. 

Lawrence eventually heaved his head up and glanced over at her. He was ghastly pale, his eyes red, and bile was attempting to escape him. Lawrence hurled forward again, shivering violently despite the Pandora sun warming the cliffside.

"Leave," he groaned. 

Angel kept a hand on him, a part of her wanted to comfort him, hug him and tell him he'd be ok. But these feelings only came from the memory of her Dad, her real Dad, and that person was long gone. Lawrence only resembled John in appearance, everything else about him was tainted with Jack. John, the one who had read to her and held her was a man she could barely remember. She only had a few brief recollections of him, but she clung to them desperately. They were few and far between after her mother died. Slowly, John became Jack, and with that transition, her real Dad died. 

“Angel," Lawrence heaved, his breathing was shallow, "where is your Eridium?”

He was doing a poor job at keeping his voice casual. He masked his face in his arms, yet, his tone was enough to reveal his play.

“It’s all gone,” she lied.

“There was still enough for another day,” Lawrence choked as he coughed again. 

His demeanour was relaxed under her hand, yet Angel had spent years with Jack. She knew when a storm was brewing and one hell of a storm was on its way.

“I'm sorry, its all gone."

And just like Jack, the storm broke. His tone turned dangerously sharp, “don’t lie to me.”

Lawrence drew his head up, and their mix-matched eyes stared back at one another. He was worse for wear than Angel previously thought, Yet, she held her position, if he tried anything she could always retake his sight. And, after what he pulled with Felicity, she wouldn't hold back either. 

“You can’t have it,” she said calmly.

“What?” He hissed, his voice barely audible.

Angel swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing, “when Jack arrived at the Bunker you tried to hang up the call. I deliberately kept the line open."

Lawrence narrowed his eyes, she felt the muscles on his back recoil. Angel retracted her hand as he leaned off the gravel and rested on his knees.

“You spied on us?”

“Only to make sure you were ok!"

"I heard how Jack...hurt you, how he gave you Eridium to heal-. 

“Angel, you're treading a mighty thin line,” Lawrence cut her off, his voice dangerously low. 

"You’ve had Eridium treatments in the past, haven't you?"

“Shut your damn mouth."

At that moment Lawrence resembled Jack in such a way that she could no longer tell them apart. His shoulders were rolled back, eyes sharp and his lips curled up into a snarl. With the scar on his face, he looked monstrous.

"Your body is severely addicted to the substance. You’re just going through withdrawals. You can fight this.”

“You’re a Siren, Eridium is different for you. You have no idea what it's like,” Lawrence spat. 

Although they were both on the ground, he still towered over her. Yet, Angel wouldn't let him intimidate her. She wouldn't let Jack beat her, not again, not ever. 

"Give it to me,” he moved towards her. 

“Lawrence, Listen to yourself! You don’t want this. Jack wins if you give in,” Angel implored, she hoped he would see reason. 

He gave a bark of laughter that caused her spine to shudder in terror. At that moment, he might as well have been Jack.

“Jack already won, when he did this!” Lawrence roared as he pointed to the scar on his face.

The clamour in his voice caused her to fall back on her hands. Her palms scraped against the uneven ground. Vivid images of Jack, her chamber and chair swam to the forefront of her mind, despite her aversion, she kept herself upright. She could beat this. 

“Tim, please,” Angel hoped using his other name might pull him out of his Jack like trance, but it only seemed to fuel his hatred. 

“I told you not to use that name," he hissed, “that person doesn’t exist anymore.”

“He doesn’t have to! You can bring that person back. Stop letting Jack beat you.”

Lawrence ignored all her words, he began to pull himself to his feet. His figure towering over her as she crawled back on the ground. His form blocked out the rising sun, removing the only peaceful element from the scenery. 

“Jack saw to that when he burnt this into my face. Do you know what scorched flesh smells like? What molten iron feels like on your skin? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA!?"

This was the most she’d heard him speak since she came out of her own Eridium addiction. If he needed a verbal punching bag, then she’d submit. However, she wasn't going to let him succumb to the drug that he so desperately wanted.

"He may have used you, kept you captive, but he destroyed me!" he spat. "THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT HIM! You have no idea what he's capable of.”

Angel knew more than Lawrence gave her credit, yet she kept quiet. 

“Now give me the damn Eridium, Angel.” Lawrence shook with a fury she’d only ever seen the likes of on Jack. 

“The Eridium is with Felicity, I’ve asked her to digitise it away and store it. You can’t get it. No matter what you do,” Angel replied, burying the fear that threatened to boil over.

Something flashed across his eyes, a wild glint. Angel had seen it before. She seized dirt in hands, ready to throw it in his face if he dared to move any closer.

“I’m only going to ask you once more,” he snarled.

He wasn’t going to quit, Angel realised. This had carried on for too long. She shoved her hand into her pocket and activated the watch.

Nyx and Crake burst forward.

Their blue and red forms lit up the surrounding area. Pandora’s rising sun made Crake shine a brilliant red. Nyx’s form was diluted. Angel gave out a yelp of surprise as Crake stormed forward, his red frame shielding her from Lawrence. Meanwhile, Nyx instantly retreated behind her.

Crake bent his knees and kept his stance wide, “stand down Lawrence.”

Angel had expected Nyx to come to her aid, as she'd barely said a word to this ‘Crake’. Yet, the blue Jack appeared very content lingering to the sidelines. He rubbed his arms and gave worried looks between Crake and Lawrence.

“Get out of the way” Lawrence growled back.

Alarm simmered away, clawing at her chest at the realisation. Lawrence could - as he just did - tell the AI’s to stand down. Yet, Crake shook his head and ordered Lawrence to back away. Angel’s mouth hung open, Crake just disobeyed a direct order. 

What kind of AI were they?

“Crake, this is killing me,” Lawrence heaved.

“I know, but you’ll only make it worse,” there was actual sympathy in his words. Something Angel hadn’t heard in Jack’s voice in a very long time. 

“Nyx, don't even think about it!” Crake snapped and leered over his shoulder. 

Angel spun around to see Nyx rubbing his arms nervously, his eyes darting to the watch and then back to Lawrence. Had he just considered returning to the watch? Nyx stared down at her with an apologetic look. 

"Get her inside,” Crake called as he glanced down at Angel on the ground.

“R-right” Nyx almost stammered.

Nyx lowered himself to Angel's level, “let's go and leave the two boys to fight over who has the bigger balls, ok?”

Nyx rested his digital hands under her and tried to help her up, it was pointless as he barely had any mass, but the gesture was there. Lawrence threw a glare towards her as she trailed back to the container door. But his gaze had lost that wild glint, he looked defeated, his shoulders weighed him down, he was ready to collapse. Yet, when the container door shut separating them, Lawrence burst out cursing. Words so vile Angel felt a little sick just from hearing them.

Nyx's eyes were fixed on the door as were hers. The two of them huddled on the cot, and he kept a digital hand on her shoulder. With the door securely shut in front of them, Nyx seemed to regain some confidence. 

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" 

It took a moment for Angel to work out Crake was the one yelling. 

"Going back to the Bunker? Of course, this would happen, you absolute fool.”

“OH, FUCK OFF CRAKE!" Lawrence snapped.

Angel felt Nyx’s hand twitch, and static ran up her spine

"Fucking useless. What would you have done? Kill Jack?”

“Maybe. I sure as shit wouldn’t be willing to roll over and submit to him like a damn dog.”

“SHUT IT!”

It sounded like Lawrence had lunged forward as something hit the container door. Felicity gave a worried beep at the sound of the impact. 

“You need to pull yourself together real quick. Or things will end up like last time,” Crake warned. 

“I’ve already read my death certificate. Twice now, I don’t need reminding."

“Seems like you do. What happens to us, the girl? If you die.”

“When I die," Lawrence corrected. 

Angel threw a worried glance at Nyx, but his expression revealed no answers.  

Crake growled something in reply but Angel couldn't catch what was said. She wanted to get up and press her ear to the container door, but reason told her to stay put. Nyx fidgeted as his gaze too remained planted on the door. She made note how unsettled the blue Jack looked.

Crake and Lawrence continued the conversation at low growls, occasionally a curse was yelled, but most of the discussion remained private. Nyx didn't return to the watch, and Angel found herself relieved at that. He may look like Jack, but his demeanour did not put her on edge the way Lawrence and Crake would. The two of them launched anxious glances at each other as they sat in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter to date, 6000+ words of Man pain. 
> 
> This is the last chapter for my the weekly update schedule as I start my final year of uni tomorrow and my new job this week! But don't fret, updates will still keep coming. I have too much of this story written to stop now haha oh how I can laugh about it originally being 'short quick story'.
> 
> Thank for you everyone who leaves a comment, you have no idea how much they make my day!!! Also, wooooo 27 subscribers! where are you coming from! who are you? thank you!
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.   
> **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	16. Becoming Jack Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter warnings: #consent-issues #eating-disorder**

There was going to be a punishment. Lawrence knew it. He didn't kill the escort; he disobeyed Jack.

When he returned from his mission from Pandora - broken and bruised - he discovered all the alcohol in his apartment had been removed. Even the damn mouthwash. Grudgingly he admitted it may have been for the best, yet, that was his lucid brain speaking. He needed to drink, being obliterated made it easier to be Jack. Life would become a costume, an elaborate performance, he would slip it on and then toss it aside every time he climbed into bed. Codeine and electrolytes did amazing things.

There was, of course, to be a second punishment. Jack had a backup plan for his backup plans, discipline to follow disciplines and an endgame for his endgames.

He crept around the corners of his own apartment on constant edge, when was the needle going to come out? When were the doors going to lock and never open? Jack had locked him away - for failing to take action at the New Haven assault - for two damn months. It drove him paranoid with the anticipation of the final sentence (a searing iron rod in the face). By the time Jack had opened those doors he was a begging sobbing mess, apprising him he'd do better. That he would become Jack.

His retaliation with Felicity was his last warning after that Jack took him to R&D and revealed project Tartarus to him. Jack's glorified immortality project. That thing, that AI in R&D would replace him the moment Jack didn't see him as a worthy imitation.

However, a week past and the needle never came, and the doors remained open and the AI was never seen. Lawrence didn't know what to do. He couldn't comprehend if this were a worse situation. Did Jack have something more sinister planned?  
  
His physician told him to increase his carb intake, he was losing, fat fast, and he didn't have much to lose in the first place. His rigorous gym routine kept the muscles in place, but every session left him on the brink of fainting. He couldn't stand the waiting, the not knowing. What was Jack going to do?   
  
Another week past and Lawrence stopped eating, he didn't even crave drinking anymore. Was this Jack's plan? Leave him in total despair and let the paranoia eat away at him. If so, It was working.   
  
Meg found him collapsed on the floor, he'd been returning from a gym session, and the stairs to Jack's office had proven too much.  Lawrence groaned as he tried to pull himself together, his head rang from the collision. He begged her not to call Jack, but she dismissed him, loyalty was a bitch.   
  
Jack rounded on him, he was livid. He dragged Lawrence back to the apartment and supervised him as he ate. He was being forced to exist, to live. When Jack was out of sight, he threw up his meal. At first, he didn't know why he did it. It wasn't that bad - eating - he had felt better, yet the urge to do it again remained. In the following days, Lawrence realised it was the only ounce of control he had left, and so it became another addictive habit.   
  
Eventually, Lawrence discovered the second punishment. Jack did ensure his eye paid the price, but it wasn't with a needle. He cancelled his cybernetic surgery without telling him. The disappointment stung worse when he arrived for the scheduled pre-op appointment, only to leave embarrassed upon discovering it had been cancelled weeks prior.   
  
Two more weeks past and Lawrence got used to not eating. If it became too much, he downed a health-kit or took a pill to make himself feel full. He went through each day with forced cheer and a celebrity grin on his face. Only to strip it away the second the doors closed behind him. Jack was visiting him less, but he made sure never to miss a meal. He guarded Lawrence, watching him force every mouthful down. When Jack caught him throwing it back up, the fury was destructive. He threw Lawrence's head against the toilet bowl almost knocking him out. Unlike the porcelain, Lawrence didn't break, he didn't think it was possible for him to cry anymore and so, he just laid there curled up on the ground, unsure whether to fight back or submit.   
  
The last person he could possibly believe to spare him bolted to his side; Nisha.   
  
She reprimanded Jack, Nisha revealed some embarrassing and almost tragic details of how Jack had grieved after having his face burned to a crisp. Apparently, he hadn't taken well to being disfigured, the mask had been his solution to his sorrow. So, Nisha's solution? To restore Lawrence's sight, as if that would solve everything. As if everything wrong in his life was his fucking eye. Lawrence nodded and told them both that's all he wanted, how grateful he'd be if he could see again. A pitiful lie, but it worked, and Jack finally gave in as long as Lawrence started eating. 

* * *

  
The surgery was worse than being branded, something he could have never anticipated.   
  
Thankfully the surgeon persuaded Jack to have anesthesia on his eye. However, that didn’t take away the sensation of something tinkering around in his socket. That was just the beginning, he had to witness the surgeons remove his pale green eye. It sat there on a tray next to him as the surgeon got to work with the cybernetic implant. He felt like his throat should've been hoarse. However, all of his screams were contained to a silent cry in his head. Verbally protesting would have dislodged a needle or send something sharp down in the wrong spot. It took all of his willpower to stay still, his jaw ached from having his teeth clenched so tight, the sides of his tongue were raw from nipping it when things had become too much. However, it was worth it, he proved Jack he could do it.   
  
These memories seemed eons away like they'd been shifted deep into the recess of his mind. Lawrence recognised the sensation, his head moved slowly across the pillows to glance at the drip by his side. Another dosage of morphine had just been administered. A pleasant sentiment dripped across his mind, taking away the memory of the surgery and the impending migraine. The surgeon had said something about months of headaches, the nerves needed to adjust to the cybernetic implant.   
  
"What's up buttercup?" A familiar, voice addressed as something jabbed into the side of him.   
  
Lawrence's eye fluttered open (the other was hidden under layers of gauze) and regarded Jack sitting beside him. He wasn’t sure how far along it was post-op, was it a few hours? The entire night? His medical room didn’t have any windows, nor a clock. Time was absent for Lawrence.   
  
When he didn’t respond, Jack grew impatient; another finger found its way into Lawrence's ribs. He rolled his head over to scowl at Jack.   
  
"You...." Lawrence uttered quietly. The morphine was already taking hold of his speech.   
  
"Yes me," Jack was beaming.   
  
"Arsehole," was all he could muster.   
  
Jack just laughed, seemly not at all phased by the insult, so Lawrence continued.   
  
"It was awful, bet you thought I couldn't do it," Lawrence gave Jack a timid smile.   
  
"Is this what this is all about," Jack leaned in close to the bed, Lawrence could smell alcohol on his breath , it must be late evening.   
  
"You wanted to prove me wrong, kitten?" Jack was almost leaning on top of him.   
  
Lawrence didn't reply to that, he hurriedly wished the conversation would move away. The morphine was unmistakably giving him a confidence he should ever have around Jack.   
  
"You, other-Jack have a long way to go, but I gotta admit, it's kinda cute," Jack sneered as he placed a hand down on Lawrence beside.   
  
Lawrence tried to relax further into his morphine bliss state, but that was an impossible feat with Jack in the room. Despite Lawrence being 'hospitalised', Jack just couldn't go an evening on his own. The man was extroverted to the core, needed Lawrence in attendance even if he was drinking on his own.   
  
"What on earth do they have you on? Cause I want in on this," Jack inquired as his hand reached for the small jar on the bedside table. Lawrence watched as Jack's lips moved wordlessly as he read the contents of the vial.   
  
"You're baked as a cake, cupcake."   
  
Jack deliberately stressed the nickname, now that it was more appropriate than ever. Lawrence didn't notice Jack draw out the syringe, but the needle was hastily shoved in his arm.   
  
"Ohhhh, no, come on" Lawrence reached out to Jack, but his arm barely moved off the bed, "that's mine, give it."   
  
Jack only chuckled in response and ruffled Lawrence's hair as he leaned back in the chair. Drink still in hand and needle hanging from the vein.   
  
"Fuck you, Jack," Lawrence cursed softly.   
  
"What did I say about that mouth?" Jack hissed quietly.   
  
Lawrence mumbled a sorry.   
  
"It's a pretty mouth, so...don't put filthy words...in it," Jack trailed off.   
  
"But, sure, fuck me," Jack drawled as he leaned back in the chair, his eyes fluttered shut. Lawrence followed suit, he closed his eyes and pressed his shoulders back into the soft pillows.   
  
Time still eluded Lawrence, and he had no idea how much of it had past when Jack abruptly burst out laughing.   
  
"I'm meant to be in a meeting with Maliwan in the mornin," he choked on his own tears before the two of them passed out.

* * *

Lawrence wiggled his shoulders into the thick feather filled European pillows, his bed - the medical ward one - was a dream. Just like Jack's apartment, he had his own medical room, identically fitted. Lawrence swiped down the echo to turn the page of the novel he was reading, it was an epic fantasy a world filled with cursed heroes and fantastic beasts. A long time ago Lawrence had wanted to write something very similar, but his world would be filled with bears and magic. His mum had sternly warned him that a degree in creative writing was futile, yet he’d paid her no mind.  
  
“It's the big reveal today!”   
  
He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't heard Jack storm into the room. Lawrence wasn't sure how that was possible as Jack was a torrent of ecstasy and noise.   
  
“Hold this pumpkin.”   
  
Jack didn't wait for Lawrence to take the item and something silver flashed as it fell into his lap. Lawrence glanced down and studied the object in his hands; it was a hand-held mirror. He hadn’t seen one like it in years, he turned it over, exploring its delicate, ornate surface. A large sapphire was embedded into the back, curved silver linework radiated behind the stone. It was truly something beautiful, but nothing like Jack's tastes. Did it belong to a lost lover? Or perhaps his mother? Didn't he use to have a wife? Or two?

  
Jack leaned over Lawrence, keeping his face fixed on the mirror all while trying to remove the bandages. It caused for some very awkward and confusing movements.   
  
Lawrence ended up batting Jacks hand away, “I’ll do it.”   
  
He leaned his head forward and moved the bandage from the back over the front, he did so until there was nothing left but a cotton eye patch. Gingerly he removed the tape holding it in place and lifted the soft cotton away from his eye.   
  
“Oh..”   
  
Lawrence could not withhold the disappointment in his voice. It looked exactly the same. A pale green, almost white eye stared back at him. Dammit, he forgot how much he hated mirrors, his reflection - Jacks face - stared back at him. The scar was just as bad as he remembered; deep and contorting his face. Unlike, Jack's features, which were smooth the synthetic flesh keeping him composed at all times.   
  
“Oh, what?” Jack replied voice close to a snarl.   
  
“Nothing! I just thought...I’d get my green eye back," Lawrence hastily tried to explain, "guess I didn’t really think it through.”   
  
“My eye is still freaky pale, so yours is too,” Jack said flatly.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“You can see, be grateful,” Jack delivered a light slap to the back of Lawrence's head.   
  
“I am.”   
  
The admission made his stomach turn inside out, he just accepted that he was grateful for getting his sight back from the man who took it away.   
  
“Thanks,” Lawrence smiled towards Jack. His lie's were improving every day, or so he thought.   
  
“Whats the matter?” Jack crossed his arms and leaned up from the bedside, “you still have that glum look.”   
  
Lawrence ignored the question, "don't you have work?"   
  
"Don't change the subject, but yes. Its Friday firing time and I gave that up, just to be with you."   
  
Jack loved his Friday afternoons, he'd get debriefed from each department head, do a few lines of whatever powered substance he had in his draw and then it would begin. Meg would order in those who needed to be dispensed of, and Jack would make a whole afternoon of it. Sometimes Tim would stay and watch, only to get a handful of whatever Jack had in his draw. He wasn't opposed to taking drugs with Jack if anything it made things more bearable for him. It levelled the playing field when they were both inebriated, and it didn't matter if anyone saw two Jack's, cause that's the last thing they were going to see. So far Tim had just watched, he hadn't taken part in any of the 'firing' activities, that was mostly Nisha.   
  
Jack loved these afternoons, Lawrence didn't understand why he was here with him; sober, in a medical room.   
  
“Want to go shoot some things, come on let's go shoot things!” Jack pressed his tone light as he poked his fingers into his Lawrence's underside causing him to flinch.   
  
"yeah, ok, Lawrence actually gave Jack a genuine smile. "Let's go shoot things.”   


* * *

Jack had the shooting range cleared out for the two of them.  
  
With the range doors closed behind them, Tim could remove the digi-mask from his face, the one that portrayed him as some nobody from accounting. It was a requirement when the two of them would travel side by side around Helios. There could only ever be one Jack.   
  
Jack collected some beers from ...somewhere and was promptly opening one as he led Lawrence down the firing range halls. Lawrence eyed the bottled in Jack's hand, condensation ran down the side, and Lawrence tried not to think about its contents. Jack was in a pleasant mood and that undoubtedly concerned Lawrence. Jack told him to hold still before he paced off down the hall leaving Lawrence in the range; alone. It was unnerving being around Jack in such a casual manner. When was the facade going to crack? When was he going to draw another needle and jam it down Lawrence's eye?   
  
Neither of those things happened. Jack paced back, standing tall, beaming as he held a sniper in his arms. Lawrence didn't recognise the make, was it a new prototype?   
  
“Present for you,” Jack blurted out as he shoved the gun into Lawrence's hands. The unexpected weight caused Lawrence to lean forward.   
  
The gun was certainly not a standard issue. There were additional details and finishes to the handle and scope which were entirely unnecessary and purely aesthetic.   
  
“I think presents are meant to be wrapped and have a pretty bow,” Lawrence replied with an awkward smile.   
  
Jack cocked a brow but didn’t say anything. Lawrence was meant to be Jack-like, but his employer didn’t always respond well when he targeted the sass towards him.   
  
“All right cowboy,” Jack drew a pen - which Lawrence knew concealed a blade - and indicated he wanted the sniper back. Lawrence did so promptly. Jack turned and laid the sniper on the bench and began to work against it after a minute or so Jack handed it over. A crudely drawn bow was engraved on the side of the sniper, along with a signature, signed with love from Jack.   
  
“Thanks?”   
  
Lawrence was actually surprised at the gesture but said nothing of it.   
  
It had been some time since the two of them had hung out in the range. Last time, it was a training session before they were to obliterate New Haven. Back then, Jack only had eyes for Nisha. Now? Jack's attention was shifting, Lawrence held his chest tight as he knew it was landing on him.     
  
“Ok, show me what you can do.”   
  
“The range is too small for a sniper.”   
  
“Just shoot,” Jack waved a hand forward.   
  
Lawrence gave Jack a brief smile and paced up to the range booth. He fixed the hearing-aid to silent, tendinitis was a bitch. The gun's interface told him the bullet-torn digistruct target ahead was just under two hundred metres away. Lawrence lined up his scope, he waited until his heart rate relaxed, let in a firm breath, prepared himself for the kickback and fired.   
  
He took the digistruct's head clean off, the entire thing exploded and a corrosive green fluid drizzled down the target's body.   
  
“Corrosive rounds?” Lawrence leaned back from the booth and gave Jack a sly smile, “overkill much?”   
  
Jack shrugged, he was sitting up on the bench behind him, a beer was in his hand. Something wasn't right, Jack was relaxed. Those two words - Jack and Relaxed - didn't go hand in hand. Lawrence went to turn back and take another short, but a tiny grunt caught his attention. Jack buried his head in his hand, a grimace was screwing his face up. Did Jack have a headache? Lawrence could have sworn he saw a soft purple glow emit from under the mask, but he said nothing.   
  
Lawrence returned his attention to the firing range and cleaned up the rest of the targets, all shots hitting the head or heart.   
  
“You must make me look so fricken cool out here,” Jack said, his demeanour was relaxed again.   
  
“At least one of us is,” Lawrence ran a hand through his hair, which warranted a sneer from Jack.   
  
“Ok gumdrop, stop being bitter you got your sight back.” Jack pressed a foot to the back of Lawrence coat and pushed him back into the booth.     
  
Lawrence rolled his eyes, “Nah, your turn” he gestured to Jack after the targets replenish themselves.   
  
"Not done yet, cupcake" Jack reached for his echo and entered a code effortlessly.   
  
The sound of a metal door moving caught Lawrence attention, it was coming from the very far end of the firing range.   
  
Lawrence's brow shot upwards.   
  
Jack just gestured forward, and Lawrence reluctantly obeyed. He turned his attention back to the range and looked down the scope. Several Hyperion employers were lined up against the back wall, held in place by loaders.   
  
Jack's Friday Firing spree.   
  
Like standing in the eye of the storm, everything was becoming clear. Jack wasn't giving up his firing spree, he was just passing the reigns down.   
  
It was another test. Jack pushed these onto him every so often. When Lawrence had refused to kill a Lost Legion soldier he'd ordered Nisha to find the rest of the squad and kill them all. When Lawrence had refused to take down an enemy aircraft, Jack ordered Wilhelm to take the whole base. If Lawrence resisted, Jack would just order a worse scenario for his victims.   
  
Lawrence had learned by then, better to be the executioner than to let them meet a more horrible fate. His mind raced back to the escort, he'd already forgotten her name, but not her face. Lawrence had resisted seeking details, but Jack gave them to him anyway. How he had shoved a knife into her abdomen and tore it all the way to her neck. Lawrence should have done it, he should have placed a gun to the back of her head and taken her out while she slept. She wouldn't have felt a thing.   
  
Lawrence lined the sniper up and took them out.   
  
Jack whopped in the background, Lawrence imagined them as digistruct targets. He ignored the blood that flew with each hit, and he ignored their screams, their begging. If he didn't do this, then someone else would. Lawrence leaned back and gave Jack a cruel smile. He couldn't let his disgust show. This is how he survived.   
  
"Ok, now it's your turn," Lawrence said, as he reached for a beer. He really needed that drink, Jack's lip twitched as he popped the lid, but he didn't confiscate it.   
  
“Nah, this is your show kiddo.”   
  
Lawrence rolled his eyes and pushed the sniper into Jack's arms.   
  
“You’re always criticising how I walk and talk now's my chance to critique your shooting."   
  
“Oh, so this is what this is about, you want a chance to show off” Jack gave a surprisingly friendly chuckle. “Fine,” he shoved the beer down, slid off the bench and took the sniper from Lawrence.   
  
Lawrence immediately identified a dozen things wrong with Jack’s stance as he took hold the sniper. Lawrence's lips merged into a light smirk yet he chose to say nothing. Jack swung the sniper around like it was a shotgun to be blasted at close range, he took aim and fired.   
  
He hit the target, but in its far right shoulder.   
  
“Decent shot” Lawrence congratulated him.   
  
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, other-Jack?"   
  
"No, honestly that wasn't bad."   
  
“Fine come here and show me how it's done."   
  
Lawrence's chest tightened, fear clawed at his insides. He’d been quite happy sitting a distance from Jack but was in no position to feel comfortable standing next to him with a loaded gun.   
  
“Don’t have all day,” Jack chimed in.   
  
Jack had always been a tactile man, but he'd been increasing the closeness between them to an unnecessary level. He was regularly finding an excuse to ruffle Lawrence's hair, to run a hand over his shoulder or wrap it around his waist, usually to drag Lawrence off to see his new creation.   
  
Lawrence wasn't a fool, he knew what Jack wanted, and Lawrence gave no indication he wanted it too.   
  
For all this 'closeness' he was still the man who'd joked about giving him a lobotomy. Lawrence swallowed down the lump curdling in his throat. He pushed himself off the bench and stepped towards Jack.   
  
“Right,” Lawrence cleared the burning sensation in his chest. He used his foot to kick Jack’s leg apart, and he could have sworn Jack hummed from the contact.   
  
"Stand like that," Lawrence directed, although his voice wavered.   
  
Lawrence adjusted Jack's stance which required more contact than he like. Each movement was swift, and touches were brief. When satisfied, he ordered Jack to take a shot. This time Jack landed a marginally better target.   
  
Lawrence leaned in again to adjust Jacks posture once more, but the other man didn't give him a chance. Jack spun around, so the two were head to head and grabbed Lawrence by the lapels of his coat.   
  
"Oh...um," Lawrence stammered and went to edge away, but Jack already had an alligator grip and a smile to match.   
  
"Damn, you are just perfect," Jack's voice was smooth and deep with affection. Yet, his grip was relentless.   
  
Lawrence didn’t know whether to feel appalled or grateful for the confession. All he could manage was a dopey smile, which pleased Jack as next thing he was running his hand up Lawrence's front. Even though they were the same height, at the same level, they were also not. The balance of power between them was never level, not even close to being equal.   
  
Lawrence wanted to say something, suggest they re-look at his posture, fix his aim, just go back to shooting, but the words died in his throat.   
  
"I hope they all turn out like you," Jack's eyes trailed over Lawrence's face, lingering on his jaw and then down his neck.   
  
"Turn out like me?"   
  
And then Jack closed the distance between them. He took advantage of Lawrence's opened mouth and pressed a kiss to his lips. Jack's mouth was insistent and his hands oppressive, exactly how Lawrence thought he would kiss. A million conflicting feelings fired up in Lawrence's chest, but they were pushed aside as Jack explored further into him. His hands rummaged through Lawrence's hair, another palm was pressed against his shoulder blades. A shiver raced down his spine, Lawrence held his breath in an attempt to conceal his fear.   
  
"Fuck you are so perfect, so goddamn perfect," Jack punctuated his words with his teeth against Lawrence's neck. He pressed a thigh between Lawrence's legs and began to push him towards the bench behind them. If Jack realised Lawrence was yet to kiss back, then he made no comment on it. Jacks hand grew bored exploring Lawrence's back and began to make its way to the edge of his belt. Lawrence stuttered a quick protest as Jack's hand slid past the threshold and palmed over his cock. Jack pulled back, letting their mix-match eyes meet. There was nothing but lust behind Jacks heavy gaze, his intentions as obvious as a written word.   
  
Lawrence didn't want this. All he wanted was his sight back, he didn't want Jack. He didn't want to be here.   
  
Jack's eyes darted back down to Lawrence's neck, and the grip he had on him was taken away as promptly as it was granted.   
  
"I thought they gave you gene modifications?” The affection in his voice was gone.   
  
“Yeah...they did,” Lawrence raised his brow, unsure what Jack was getting at. The shivers threatening to consume him returned, but the tightness in his chest relaxed. He couldn't reason what was worse, Jack stopping or continuing.   
  
“Your freckles are coming back,” Jack's voice was almost animalistic, like a dog who had his bone taken away.   
  
Lawrence instinctively ran his hand along the back of his neck.   
  
“Too much of the Pandora sun?”   
  
“Get that fix before you come back,” Jack snapped, and he went back to aim down the scope of the sniper.     
  
Lawrence thanked the damn stars for his freckles and wasted no time leaving the shooting range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I managed to keep my weekly schedule, despite starting uni and a job! Sundays are my only day off, they're meant to be dedicated to homework and my portfolio but I just can't help but write :)
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	17. Party of Five

Images of Jack by his side had cast a fog over his mind, memories played back and forth as he remained curled up in the sheets. A feverish chill overtook him as he tried to regain his sense of being and his sense of reality.

_ "Will you ever leave me, Timmy?" _ Jack's words echoed in his mind as the two of them had laid next to one another.

_ "No, never,"  _ he'd told him, and he had meant it. It was the first time they’d shared a bed, and it was the first time Lawrence had felt safe, secure and happy with Jack by his side. 

Lawrence couldn’t remember when he stopped being Timothy, was it when Jack had seared his face? Or was it before? Was it when he started to take part in the Friday firing sprees or when torture no longer filled him with regret. Or was it when he took Jack in his arms and had him in his bed.

He couldn’t remember when he started to lean on Jack and Jack on him. He couldn’t remember when he swapped gin for scotch and cappuccinos for long blacks. Was it Jack who liked maple bacon pancakes or him? Ok, that one was most likely him. And who was it who had started to binge eat pretzels and watch foreign cable tv shows?

If anyone asked him what his favourite show, band or food was he wouldn't know if the answers were his own or Jack's. Not like it mattered, no one had bothered to ask him anything about himself before he was Jack. Only when he became the double for the powerful CEO did people ask. They'd listen, he'd get smiles, numbers, attention; people liked Jack.

Lawrence had deluded himself for years that he was out for revenge. He knew of assassination attempts against Jack's life, and still, he'd put his life on the line to save him. Lawrence had gone through Eridium treatment after treatment to get back on his feet. All so he could be by Jacks side again, while he told himself it was too get revenge, to keep his enemy close.

That was the biggest lie he ever told himself. Strangely he did get his revenge even if it was in a moment of pettiness. All he felt was abandonment for being left alone at the Bunker, this was his motivation; how pathetic. Yet, in the end, he took Angel away from Jack.

Dread crept over his thoughts, he couldn’t admit what he knew to be true. 

He had the opportunity to shoot Jack, they were alone in his loft, no one would have known he was there. Lawrence doubted anyone at Hyperion really knew the place existed. He could have ended it, yet he didn’t, and then he’d given himself to Jack. Despite the drugs in his system, he knew his past-self had wanted it. His present-self was even tempted. He missed his apartment on Helios and the comforts it provided. His bed, his routine, security, drinks with Jack, quiet conversation in the dark. 

Lawrence stirred under the linen sheets, his skin had cooled but the shivers still drilled into his spine. Surely this would end soon?

Yet, he would rather suffer through more Eridium withdrawals than face Angel. He’d all but attacked her to get to the Eridium. Lawrence let out a long groan, his stomach swam in disgust. However, the choice to face her wasn’t his to make, as he heard her soft footsteps approach his sweat soaked bed. 

“Tim”

“Don’t call me that.”

_ Only Jack calls me that.  _

“Ok…”

“Drink this, its just water, you need it.”

Lawrence rolled over from his comfortably coiled position to face her. Her lips were in a thin line, eyes glassy as she stood above him. Lawrence took note how far she stood from the bed keeping her arm outreached. He leaned forward and accepted the drink, he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was until the glass was emptied. Angel stalked away to get another. 

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence blurted out as she approached the sink to refill the glass. She turned and replied with a cool gaze, “thank you for apologising.”

He desperately needed to explain, tell her it wasn’t his fault. However, the sickly feeling in his stomach held him back, blaming the Eridium is precisely what Jack would do. 

_ I’m not him. I need to stop being him. _

A piss poor distinction. Lawrence was every bit, Jack. He knew from the way Angel looked at him, how she flinched when their gazes met, how she couldn't stop herself from tearing at the jumper, curling in and hiding. He was suffocating her,  _ the quicker she's off and safe with the Vault Hunters the better.  _

_ I'm just a constant reminder or every vile act forced upon her. _

Lawrence pushed himself up to lean back on the container wall, letting his arms stretch up against the cool metal surface. His muscles protested to being put to use. Lawrence felt his back crack, that was happening more often than it should. He made a mental note to go see the physio, but Angel passing another glass of water to him made him realise he had to dismiss that idea. 

“How are we doing for food?” he groaned as he stretched out his legs.

“We’re out.”

Lawrence leaned off the bed and struggled to his feet, the world shifted, and he felt the urge to collapse back down. He closed his eyes and counted down from five, letting his body steady itself; he needed to regain control. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Angel replied with a glare which said enough. 

Lawrence sighed and ran a hand over his chin. A decent layer of stubble had claimed his jaw, Jack hadn't mind facial hair, although he did prefer to style it in a way from a long gone era. Yet, the mask didn't permit either of them to grow it out.

“Right, we need supplies, and then we should hit the road.” Lawrence made to move to the fridge to see what they had left.

“You're not in any condition to travel,” Angel asserted, her hands flexed on her hips. 

“I’m fine,” Lawrence said, hoping the matter was settled. 

“Has he always been this irritable?” A new, yet recognisable voice joined the conversation which made Angel smile.

"Mostly, he's usually a brooding mess, although he did threaten me the other day, can't say it was a pleasant exchange.” She turned to face the Constructor behind her. 

"Men, typical," the feminine voice spoke again, taunt and clear as ever.

Angel rested a hand on top of the Constructor. “You were out of it for so long I had time to restore her code."

“what...” Lawrence's eyes narrowed as he focused on the Constructor which had emitted a woman's voice.

"Restoring her memories was a bit shaky, we used recordings from your echo to fill in the blanks, a few Hyperion video files did the rest, we managed in the end, didn't we Felicity?" Angel beamed.

Felicity; the AI he had destroyed, or murdered, depending on who you asked was flashing her red orb over his chest. Lawrence moved back and slowly raised both hands in the act of surrender. 

"Felicity I-"

She cut him off with a sharp tone, "you destroyed me."

The red eye flashed vividly, glaring him down. Lawrence stiffened his back and kept upright, he realised this was worse than looking down the point of a needle. 

"Jack-Jack did, he did it-"

Angel interjected her voice suddenly stone cold, “you both did.”

He couldn’t find the words, so he just slowly nodded. Yes, he’d destroyed Felicity, but to admit it aloud to her was too much. 

It was so long ago. Still, he had never forgotten about her. Sure he had left his project to restore her by the wayside, but he made an effort the moment it was a viable option. Surely she would see that? 

"I told you the kind of future I wanted, one where I was free. I thought you cared, but you unshackled me only to bind me to something far worse."

“I…didn't...I thought...I tried to bring you back,” Lawrence's voice trembled in a way he hadn't heard in a long time. There was a firm lump in his throat, and it seemed to choke down all his words.

“Angel here had to reassure me that you were not worth the ammunition to blast to pieces," Felicity warned.

“I…I'm” Lawrence fumbled, "I can't..." and the last words to leave him slurred as he stepped back against the container wall. The cold surface against his back was a relief as he leaned his weight in it. 

As everything suddenly felt very heavy and the red eye of Felicity doubled.

Like a collum on the verge of collapsing his legs started to tremble. Lawrence darted towards the bench for support as his body was intent on giving up. His eyes shot to his forearms in front of him, heaving himself up he glared down at the slag in his veins. It was a deep dark purple, as vivid as it was the day he woke in Angel's chamber. It wasn't going away, he knew it wouldn't, but the realisation still crumbled his spirit.

"Lawrence?" Angel's voice seemed distant.

"Not now," he panted, voice scratchy from the loss of breath. 

"What's wrong with him?"

"He has slag poisoning. Its been in his system for days."

Their conversation sounded so far away. Lawrence tried to raise his head to call to them, to interject. But every part of him screamed to collapse, curl up and let the darkness take him. 

"How on earth did that happen? Slag is patented to Hyperion, isn't he one of them?"

"It's um. complicated, something happened with him and Jack."

Thankfully Angel didn't elaborate. 

"After all this time, he's still working for that megalomaniac?"

"I don't know," Angel's voice trailed away.

"I"m...not..." Lawrence strived to hold his own, "working for him..."

Goddamnit, he despised to be seen like this, a shivering mess without an ounce of strength. 

Angels eyes narrowed, her arms stiff across her chest.

So this is how Nyx felt, the AI avoided arguments and verbal conflict like the plague. Lawrence could handle anger and firefights, hell he could even manage Jack now, but disappointment? Shame? Yeah, he wasn't prepared to discuss anything more. In the most awkward conversion change every committed, Lawrence suggested they hit the road.

"We’ve lingered here for too long...this was meant to be a stopover, a day at most." Lawrence pulled himself up, the world span in front of him. He focused his gaze on the multitude of red eyes until there was only one.

Angel gave him a cold glare before she turned and lowered herself to the bot's eye level. 

“We need to move you into something a little less, sizeable and destructive." 

“Yes, that would be nice. I can’t say I ever grew fond of this body.” Felicity chirped. 

“I can create a server for you in the Hyperion network, I could hide you there, and you can be with us at all times via the echo-net.”

“That would work nicely.”

"Woah, no, not happening" Lawrence snapped. "You're not connecting with Hyperion if Jack sees-"

Angel stalked over from the Constructor, "you!" she snapped, "are in no position to tell me what to do."

Lawrence had nothing to say to that, reluctantly he turned to collect what little possessions he had. He kept his back to Angel and Felicity, not wanting to intrude on their 'little moment'. He stored his corrosive sniper away, but not before he appreciated the faint engraving on it. 

“You must promise to stay put, I know what Hyperion did to you was unforgivable but if you move around or draw attention to yourself, they will find you and delete you,” Angel softly warned the AI.

“I promise to behave.”

Lawrence turned back in time to see Angel's face lit up, as she bounded off to retrieve her echo-comm. 

“Are you ready then?”

“Yes. I trust  _ you _ ,” Felicity's tone was distinctly accusive. 

Angel's arm lit up as she got to work. 

**************************************

It took longer than Lawrence liked to get on the road, grudgingly it was his fault. He dared not admit that he wasn't in any condition to drive. However, they couldn't afford to linger at the safe house, or that title would be voided.

He tried to contain his temper when Angel explained to him his cloaking device was fried. When he pressed her, she wouldn't give him any answers. Nyx told him to back off, Crake ordered him to get in the truck and drive. At least he got his watch back in one piece, the digi-jacks were now secured on his left wrist. 

Their acquired bandit truck blessed them again by not stalling or falling apart when he hit the ignition. Angel got herself cozy in the passenger sheet, she'd nicked a rug from the safe house and was bundled up with her knees high, and her echo-comm residing against them.

They didn't discuss the previous few days, Lawrence was thankful for that. 

Dust kicked up behind them, they had a few hours of driving to go before they were officially out of the Highlands, but the desert was already clinging to the land.

Every so often Angel would smile and laugh at seemingly nothing. Lawrence would glance across at her and see her arm was alight and her hand on the echo. His request for her not to go on the ehco-net was apparently ignored. Lawrence assumed she was talking with Felicity and that he was at the end of some clever joke between them. 

Felicity had said nothing more to him.

Eventually, Angel pulled herself away from the echo, "Overlook is west of here, why are we travelling north?"

Lawrence's head span, and the road divided into two paths. 

"You said you were taking me to the Vault Hunters," Angel continued flatly.

"I am, just," he was going to say 'trust me', but the words and effort to convince her were pointless.

"I'll get you there," he finally spoke through gritted teeth.

Everything became hazy again, but Lawrence was determined to explain, "Fast travel at Overlook is bust, Jack blew it up the second the Vault Hunters left it undefended. Not to mention neither of our bio scans are permitted to travel to Sanctuary." 

"So just send someone to come get me?"

Lawrence ignored her suggestion, he tried to focus on the road. 

"We're going to Hollow Point."

"Why?" her tone defiant.

"A friend...of mine...fuck-" Lawrence felt a shudder ripple down his spine, so violent he was sure it dislodge something. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles going white as he kept his grip steady. 

"Angel, I'm not going to discuss this right now," Lawrence rasped. 

Angel mumbled something back, and Lawrence was sure the word 'arsehole' was said. Eventually, she crossed her arms and went back to silently communicating with Felicity. 

They drove for another few hours until the land completely turned to sand. Lawrence cut the ignition and summoned Nyx and Crake as he kicked open the bent door.

“Why did we stop?” Angel said dreamily as she poked her head up from under the blanket.

“Gotta let air out of the tires, or we won’t get anywhere in this sand.”

When Angel made no motion to move he provided some encouragement “come on out and walk your legs, we won't be stopping until the end of the cycle.”

Angel - thankfully - nodded and gradually moved to open her passenger door. Nyx bounded over to her side of the truck and eagerly waited for her to get out, before the two of the set off up a sand dune.

“Don’t go where I can’t see you!” Lawrence called, but Nyx just turned and sneered as he poked his tongue out, Angel followed suit. Crake just groaned.

* * *

Nyx kept close to Angel as they edged away from the truck, he never strayed further than a few floaty steps. She glanced back behind them, enjoying the sight of Lawrence growing smaller and smaller. They ventured up a sand dune, her accent was slow work as her legs dug into the yellow sand. Nyx was unfazed by the change in surface. When they were out of earshot, she decided it was time for some answers.

“What can you tell me about Lawrence?”

“Total hero, Crake and I helped him save Helios from the Lost Legion.” Nyx puffed out his chest and took a long stride forward. 

Everything up until now seemed like a genuine response from an intelligent AI. However, that remark had to be deliberately programmed in by Jack. Angel's eyes narrowed when Nyx snorted and threw his head back to laugh. 

“Or that's what Nyx 13.09 would have said."

Angel gave Nyx perplexed look, “and now?”

His eyes lit up as he continued to give her that youthful sly smile of his, “you want the gossip, don’t you?”

Angel just shrugged.

As they reached the top of the sand dune her footsteps caused a mini avalanche down the side while, Nyx didn’t leave a trace. She relaxed, sitting down and kicked off her leather shoes which had somehow survived all this time from the Bunker. It felt amazing to have the warm sand wiggle between her toes, she started to bury her feet. Nyx plopped down beside her, he tried to glance away, but Angel caught sight of the solemn look on his face. She stopped wiggling her toes. 

“I just don’t know..." 

_ If I can trust him? _

"Anything about him...” she trailed off.

“Yeah he can be an  _ arsehole _ , can't he?"

Angel had to laugh at that. Seeing an AI casually insult its owner (I guess that's the right word) was a rarity. 

"I’ve only seen him like that once,” Nyx continued voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Crake and him had a fight, it wasn't pretty.”

“What about?”

Nyx seemed to tense beside her, she was sure she felt a wave of static emit from the blue digistruct. She caught sight of him giving a sideways glance back down towards Lawrence and Crake. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer that,” Angel added. 

“It’s not like its a secret," he shrugged, "it's just, I think it's probably better if they tell you. Crake is always better at explaining things, that's a human feelin right?”

Angel laughed, she didn't mean to, but she did, "yeah, it is.”

“Well as for gossip,” Nyx tone lightened back up, “the guy is forty…..ish. I think. Or was that Jack? I forget who's the older one. Lawrence gets grumpy when you talk about his age, see watch this.”

“HEY LAWRENCE HOW OLD ARE YOU?!”

Nyx’s unexpected outburst sent her falling back and sand rippled down the dune. Angel composed herself in time to glance back at her travelling companions. Lawrence gave a very rude gesture to Nyx, and Crake just shook his head.

Neither of them gave him a verbal response.

“Yeah, as I was saying, he was born on Eden-5, only kid, single mum; she's dead now,"

Angel bit her lip, well at least they had one thing in common.

"Get this, he has a degree in creative writing and-”

Angel laughed, “my Dad’s body double is a creative writer?”

“Annnnndd,” Nyx continued, “a double degree in computer science and commerce.”

Angel didn't know what to expect, but somehow the double degree was even more surprising than the creative writing. The idea that he was a shortsighted, grumpy, violent, look-a-like of her Dad was all she'd known.

Nyx leaned back into the sand - not that it moved -  and began to list off everything else he knew.

“The guy was racked with debt by the time he graduated, well in his thirties, no job, no girlfriend, nothing. He ended up interning at Hyperion crunching numbers till he was offered the 'opportunity of a lifetime'" Nyx went to the effort of throwing quotation marks up with his hands.

"Apparently being top of your class means shit all if you came from community-college.”

It was a lot of information, Nyx wasn't holding back any details. However, none of it actually told her what kind of person he was. Why did he take the body-double job? Debt, really? Why did he give up his entire life? How on earth did he survive working for Jack for so long?

Angel knew she was prying further than she should, when were the automated responses going to stop? How deep did the AI's intelligence go? It was like Jack had wired her to be a little snoop, it irritated her, was everyone this nosey, or just her? 

“Did he tell you all this?”

Nyx gave a very Jack-like bark of laughter, “hell no, I hacked his echo-comm, he was not happy about that.”

“Wait, how did you have permission to do that?” Angel couldn't withhold the accusation in her voice. 

Something was off. The way Nyx casually spoke about Lawrence, how he admitted to hacking his things, calling him an ‘arsehole’, and especially the comment about human feelings. Then there was Crake deliberately disobeying an order, nothing about the AI’s seemed Hyperion standard. 

Nyx beamed at her as if to encourage her to work it out.

Angel felt like she had all the pieces, but it didn’t make sense, the how and why didn’t add up. Nyx continued to give her his celebrity wide grin.

“You...have free will?” She said slowly, still unsure of her conclusion.

Nyx gave her an eager nod of his head. 

“Why on earth would Jack give you free will?! Angel burst out.

How was this possible? Why? The questions flooded back in.

"That's like...one of the most consequential rules for AI development,” Angel spoke a little too firmly than she should.  

Nyx gave her a hurt look, and she was unable  to tell if it was genuine or feigned. 

“I’m sorry, but it just is” she promptly corrected, “for obvious reasons.”

The look of hurt was thrown aside as quickly as it was put in place. “Yeah, we know the reasons why, so we don’t suddenly decide to kill our ‘masters’," Nyx scoffed as if it were a trivial issue. 

He jerked a thumb back down to Crake as he continued, “Oh man, you should have seen Crake in his early days, like really early days. He lost it, Lawrence must've programmed something dumb in. Cause next thing Crake saw him as a threat and blew a hole into the side of their apartment; nearly killed Lawrence. Jack was not happy about that,” Nyx finished with a chuckle.

“Wait, what?” Angel queried moving upright to lean in close, did she hear right?

There was a lot to take in from that statement. Nyx, like Jack, seemed to fill an entire sentence with enough information for an essay.

“Crake tried to kill Lawrence it was hilarious,” Nyx informed her again. 

“No, not that bit. You said Lawrence programmed something.”

“Oh yeah, Jack didn’t create us, and he certainly didn’t give us free-will, Lawrence did,” Nyx drawled as if it were apparent. 

“But the code, Its got practically got Jack’s signature all over it.”

Nyx shrugged, “Jack was around a lot when we were being built, he helped, I guess. But it’s all Lawrence’s hard work. He's who we need to thank for existing.”

“Oh…”

Angel honestly felt a little sheepish, she’d only seen Lawrence as some thug or attack dog, imitating her Dad. If he created Nyx and Crake, then his programming skills were phenomenal. How was it possible? Did Jack give him lessons in Hyperphire? Angel couldn’t imagine Jack being so patient with anyone. And then there was still the matter of why? Why the free will?

“Why did he give you free will? Almost all records of AI’s having free will...end in one or two ways," Angel trailed off, not wanting to mention the consequences aloud. 

It made no sense.  AI's who'd been given the privilege to make choices for themselves either went insane in their desperate need to become human or ended up becoming resentful and destructive towards humanity. Either way, there were no happy endings. 

“I know,” Nyx grounded, “and we have no intention of hurting you or Lawrence, the guy is all we have, even if he is a moody, arsehole, piece of shit.”

Nyx sighed, although no air would leave his lungs the act felt genuine, "As for the why, ask Lawrence, it was his choice, not ours."

Angel leaned forward and rested her head on her knees, she supposed she should ask him. Maybe once all the Eridium and Slag was out of his system, she could try. At the moment his mood was as alternating as wind. 

* * *

Beads of sweat ran down his neck, the heat was relentless. Lawrence moved to wipe them away  and felt the raised lines of his veins. He let his fingers skim the slag infection, they were tender to the touch. Unfortunately, his thumb trailed too close, Lawrence winced when he caught the skin in a sensitive spot.

Crake huffed beside him.

"Out with it," Lawrence said, without withholding his annoyance. 

Crake always had something to say, a lecture to be heard. There was forever a shot he could have taken better, a situation he should have avoided, a solution he didn't take. 

"We need to get you looked at."

"Brilliant, I'll just call my physician from Helios," Lawrence snapped. 

"Perhaps you should. Jack may have found a way to treat it?" 

Lawrence gritted his teeth and focused his mind on the task at hand, "no, I can't."

"Because of the girl?"

That didn't warrant an answer. Lawrence turned the tire capsule and let the air hiss out.

Crake crossed his arms and leaned against the truck, "you planned to kill her," he said absentmindedly. 

Lawrence threw a violent glare the digistruct's way, "don't you  **_ever_ ** let her hear that."

Crake just shrugged. 

"It doesn't matter what I planned," Lawrence chuckled at the absurdity of his situation. "I planned to take Jack's Siren out years ago, right after he burnt my face."

"Why didn't you?"

Lawrence rolled his shoulders back, and stood up from the tire, "Jack happened, a lot of things happened. I guess I'm not good with grudges."

"Jack was."

"Yup.”

The two of them moved around to the other side of the truck to deal with the last two tires. 

"HEY LAWRENCE HOW OLD ARE YOU?!"

he turned and gave Nyx a well-earned middle finger salute, Crake just shook his head. 

“Your brother needs to stop rewriting himself to be a sixteen-year-old, and a Jack-like one as well. Seriously, I’m no longer worried about him going insane, it's us we should be concerned about.”

Crake didn’t laugh at that. The topic of removing the AI laws was still a touchy subject, Lawrence knew the threats it posed to his and Nyx’s sanity.

The cyan digistruct and Angel turned their backs to them and Crake kept watch. 

“Are you going to talk to her about your little outburst?”

“Why on earth would you care,” Lawrence drawled as he turned the capsule on the tire. 

Air began to hiss from the valve, he counted to five and then sealed the capsule back up and moved onto the next tire.

“You were an arsehole,” Crake replied haphazardly.

Lawrence snorted, “Crake, that is rich coming from you. You are literally the manifestation of Jack’s hostility.”

“I was,” Crake snarled.

Lawrence bit his tongue, after he gave the AI’s free will they were able to adapt their own image, break away from the chains that forced them to be ‘Jack’. Crake would still come across as hostile, violent and cold, but he also embraced aspects that Lawrence never programmed into the AI. Aspects Crake solely chose for himself; protectiveness, loyalty, and support. The changes were subtle at first, but Lawrence could hardly call either AI ‘Jack’ anymore.

Nyx, on the other hand, seemed fixated on becoming an immature, chaotic brat, much to Lawrence’s and Crake’s frustration. 

Lawrence finished up on the last tire, he hoped he hadn't released too much air. The bandit truck didn’t exactly come with a pressure tester. He placed his hand on the warm black rubber and tried to push himself up, only to find his weight falling back against the truck. His head hung low, and every part of his body shuddered from moving upright.

“You can’t keep going like this,” his tone was firm, but Lawrence knew that was as close as Crake could get to being considerate.  

Lawrence didn’t need to look up to know Crake was glaring at him all over.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Lawrence groaned. He ran a hand down his neck, the veins felt like cords embedded under his skin. 

He continued to rest his head on the cool metal of the truck’s frame, waiting for the moment of dizziness to pass. A rattled breath of air slowly left his lungs, keeping his eyes close he focused on regaining his strength. He hoped Angel and Nyx weren’t looking over his way. 

“I was serious before,” Crake spoke quietly. Lawrence opened his eyes and saw the magenta glow of Crake’s feet by his side. 

“You should go back to Jack, we could look after the girl while you’re gone. You can get treated, and then you come back.”

“No,” he heaved, “I can’t.”

Lawrence slowly turned his gaze over, fuck, it was so painful to look Crake in the eye. The magenta Digistruct wore an expression of genuine concern, one that didn’t fit right on Jack’s face. 

“I can’t go to Jack.”

_ Because I might not want to come back.  _

Crake made a sound akin to a growl but didn’t press the matter further. Lawrence turned over and leaned his back on the truck, his breathing became steady again.

“Can you call them back,” Lawrence heaved. Even yelling felt tiresome. 

Crake looked like he had more to say on the matter, but he kept his jaw clenched tight. His most un-Jack-like quality. 

“Sure,” he turned and called for Angel and Nyx to make their way back.

Lawrence whispered his thanks as he pulled himself back into the driver's seat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! I was able to maintain the update schedule for the second week.
> 
> Thanks to Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind for helping me suss out the Felicity scene. 
> 
> Eager to hear your thoughts on this chapter, as its absent of angst, smut, action and fluff, the four core food groups of fan fiction. I really tried not to make it an info dump, but its hard with Angel's character being so curious and Nyx having no filter. I actually cut back on so much conversation between them (to move into later chapters) as the original draft had them talking non-stop ( I can't imagine them ever stopping). 
> 
> This is the start of the second act of the story :D road trip times! 
> 
> (lol this was meant to be an 8-13 chapter story)
> 
>  Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	18. A Place of No Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This place is not a place of honor…No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… Nothing valued is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for this chapter are: #reference-child-abuse #implied-child-abuse**

The Pandora sun was as harsh as Jack's wrath, never surrendering or providing a moment's rest. It wore through the truck's exterior, burning away at Lawrence's water reserves and energy to push on. It was near the end of the cycle, and they only partially covered the distance needed to reach Hollow Point. Under normal circumstances, he’d drive through the cycle, yet the Pandora sun and his condition made him reconsider.

The rig protested as Lawrence lowered the gears and pushed their ascent up a hill, the road curving around until it was scarcely a road. It was surprising how sturdy a bullet shot up bandit truck was. When he could drive no further, he settled under a cliffside halfway up the gorge. Lawrence parked as close as possible to the rock face to offer protection from the searing heat.

He cut the ignition, kicked the door open, and summoned Nyx and Crake once again.

“Made it?” Nyx asked.

“Yeah, this is it for today,” Lawrence battled with the bent door to close it, in the end, he just gave up.

He noted their new surroundings. They had about thirty square meters of seemingly flat gravel before the cliff dropped off or shot up to impossible heights. They were high, had a full view of the 'road' leading to them and another view of the gorge below. It was the best protection they could hope for in the middle of the Dust.

Crake delivered a firm look and Lawrence realised he'd been rubbing his arm again, he hastily pulled the cloth down to his wrists. Crake only clenched his jaw tight, but otherwise said nothing.

“Wake up, kiddo! Upsey!” Nyx cheered outside the passenger window, his palm hit the glass, but no sound came forth.

“Dammit, Nyx, let the girl sleep if she wants to,” Crake snapped.

Lawrence glanced over and saw Angel was indeed fast asleep, “Nyx, leave her, come on and help...somehow.”

Lawrence wandered around the back of the truck to unload the swags. Not that they would need the warmth, dammit it was so hot, he cursed, and Crake told him off, which prompted him to curse again. Lawrence reached for the container and felt it was half empty, he bit his lip and cursed (again).

Starving was awful, but dehydration was terrifying.

He wiped the sweat from his hairline and unloaded their gear. He took his time to carry what he could manage and stored it under the shade the rocky peak only just provided.

Crake pixelated back to his side.

“Clear?” Lawrence queried.

“Looks good, although there is a spider ant nest on the west side about fifty meters below us. So don’t let the girl wander too far.”

Lawrence nodded and thanked Crake for the update, although he doubted Angel would be abseiling down a gorge anytime soon. Meanwhile, Nyx was impatiently stalking around kicking the dirt with no luck at disturbing it.

“Keep watch for me, will you?”

“Always,” Crake pixelated away.

He was more likely to go exploring than ‘keep watch.’ At least the magenta digistruct put the effort in, Nyx only groaned from the lack of excitement.

Lawrence rolled both swags out in the darkest part of the shade, with heat as it was there was no need to get in, he just collapsed on top. His hands found their way to either side of his arms, without Crake's judgmental glare he got scratch at the skin in peace. His eyes finally relaxed, and he let his shoulders slump down - in the way Jack hated - and even kicked his shoes off.

His mind wandered over the events of the last week. Being with Jack, the Eridium withdrawals, his confrontation with Angel and Crake, Felicity coming back.

He wondered when he was going to have a chance to talk to the Dahl AI. Since being restored and leaving the safe house, she hadn't uttered a word to him. Lawrence buried his face in the swag, ignoring the fidgeting feeling in his chest.

'Why did you do it?' She'd ask.

And he would know the answer. He was a coward, and he'd deemed Jack, a hero. He thought he was doing the right thing and only when she was gone did the realisation overwhelm him. Guilt had scratched and clawed over his mind like vermins.

No apology from him would suffice, he just hoped he could prove to her he wasn't that man anymore, or Jack.

* * *

Nyx insistent pestering at the window urged her to open her eyes.

“Ok, ok” she yawned, “I’m getting up.”

This pleased the blue digistruct as he cheered, moving way to give her space to exit the vehicle. It was too hot anyway. Her feet slipped to the ground gingerly, the soft sand from before was now replaced with orange gravel and boulders.

“Where’s Lawrence?”

Nyx jerked a thumb over to the corner where the rocks shot upwards. She recognised the collapsed mess on the ground as her disgruntled travelling companion. He shook ever so slightly as he huddled up on the material below him. Green and purple bruising still blotched across his neck.

“Why hasn’t the fever passed?” Angel quired Nyx, he just shrugged.

“He’ll be fine, he can walk it off.”

Angel wasn’t so sure about that.

She picked up her discarded echo on the seat, lighting her arm up she wordlessly told Felicity she was going to get some more rest. The AI told her to sleep well, and that she was thoroughly enjoying exploring the echo-net.

Angel smiled, giving her freedom seemed to be the only rewarding deed in her life for a long time. Felicity was kind to her, she understood. Angel went to switch her echo-off however before doing so she noticed the time, she rounded on the digistruct.

“Nyx! It's so late, I need to sleep.”

He only looked sheepish for a moment.

Angel pulled her rug over her shoulders and began to make for the thin olive mattress...thing...she assumed was hers. A swag, Lawrence had called it. Collapsing much like Lawrence before her she planted down on the canvas and discovered it was considerably more comfortable than it looked. Nyx pixelated to her side as she nestled into the material in an attempt to shovel the gravel away from underneath her. The rug made a suitable pillow, and the shade was undoubtedly better than being inside the truck. Sleep should be imminent.

Lawrence was only an arm's reach away with his back to her. His once cream shirt was stained orange and brown from the land, the rest was drenched in sweat. He hadn't bothered to take the holster off, and Angel studied well-worn lines across the brown leather. Her eyes trailed over his back until they settled on his neck; the only visible skin. The veins were still a vivid dark purple, they hadn’t gone down at all.

Despite her reasonings for a quick and peaceful descent into slumber, she found it difficult the longer she eyed her travelling companion. Hunger was also stirring in her gut and made some disturbing noises as it cried for food.

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”

Angel winced and instinctively curled up tighter, even though the heat made it an uncomfortable position.

“Do you think you could stop using the pet names? the one's Jack uses?” she asked slowly, avoiding Nyx's gaze.

“Like kiddo?"

Angel kept her eyes shut but slowly nodded.

"Kitten? Cupcake? Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, all of them," she mumbled into the canvas.

“I can, cause I have free will, baby!” Nyx howled.

Lawrence was seemingly woken up, he cursed, and without rolling over, he launched some dirt Nyx’s way which subsequently landed on Angel. No apology was given. Angel huffed, leaned back up to brush herself off before rolling away from him. As she resettled into the swag Nyx pixelated over to her other side.

“Jack would not have been happy if he knew who you had free will,” Angel thought aloud as she brushed a stubborn piece of dirt from her shoulders.

Nyx hummed and leaned back against the rockface his hands rested on his knees as he drummed them to some unheard beat.

“Lawrence was smart about, kept it hidden from Jack. None of our post-free-will code is on any servers. Otherwise, Jack would have noticed the changes in the update. Our current version of us only exists in the watch,” Nyx glanced over to Lawrence.

“That's a scary thought,” she yawned.

“Well means we have just one life, just like you.”

“Oh...yeah,” Angel mumbled as she unravelled herself across the canvas.

“So make sure that idiot doesn’t do anything dumb again,” Nyx jeered, “seriously he’s going to get us all killed.”

Angel hoped he was wrong.

* * *

“Angel, baby girl, what’s wrong?” Jack cupped her face and steered her to meet his gaze.

“Leave me,” Angel hissed to him, but her request was left ignored.

“You have everything right here, I don’t know how to make you happy. I used to make you so happy, remember that?” Jack's words were soft, heavy with affection, yet Angel knew no matter his tone, something more sinister would be at hand.   

So she never replied. It wasn’t worth her breath, Jack would never listen to her cries for help, her pleas to be left alone, begs for answers.

“We had happy times together," he held her and Angel wanted to scream and push him away. His embrace had long lost its comfort and soothing appeal. Now it was possessive and desperate for control.

"You remember, don’t you?” Jack’s voice dropped at the last part the accusation dripped from his mouth.

“I had a wife,” Jack snarled, “ _we_ were happy.”

Angel started to apologise before she could register what she was doing. Jack only turned away, lamenting, dismissing her. He told her it wasn’t her fault, but the scratchiness in his voice unveiled his true feelings. Angel knew she was being manipulated, forced to please her captor, to accept responsibility. Yet, some small abandoned part of her clutched onto the idea that John was still there. That if she did or said the right thing he'd come back.

Jack increased the frequency of the Eridium injections, he belittled her for not charging his key. He promised he'd free her after the Warrior had done its job, but his tone alluded to something else.

And then Angel snapped.

She screamed at him, her arm light up, she was going to bring everything down. She was going to destroy the Bunker, destroy his key, she was going to kill Handsome Jack.

“Angel!” her dad begged her to stopped, “Angel!” he cried again.

But she disregarded his screams. Angel could feel her conscious running through the devices around her, her mind was the spark which brought them to life.

“ANGEL!” he roared at her, there was a tremor on the edge of his voice.

He knew to fear her now; _good_.

A corrosive sniper rifle was close by, she could set it off, burn away the rest of Handsome Jack’s face.

“ANGEL WAKE UP!”

Firm hands shook her, Angel was flung forward and a wave of crisp air swept across her face.

“Angel?”

Jack had both palms on her shoulders, his fingers dug into her holding her close in a firm grasp.

“Kiddo, you awake?”

Angel shot her eyes open and saw Jack leaning into her. He stared at her wide-eyed, his hair pushed back in a mess, scar deep but the edges were relaxed, not contorted into a fierce expression.

It's not him, she reasoned.

“Tim?”

Lawrence couldn’t withhold the grimace as she said his real name, yet he didn't recoil away. Instead, he relaxed his grip and looked her over.

“You had a nightmare,” he said flatly, “your arm lit up, so did everything around us.”

“Oh…”

Angel's eyes trailed over the equipment scattered around them. Her echo-comm's screen was static and emitted a loud scratchy noise. She reached over and switched it off. When she turned back Lawrence was still holding his hands to her shoulders, concern, a strange look for him was across his scarred face.

“You ok now?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,” she lied.

She could still feel her mind clinging to the sniper next to him, she bit her lip and willed herself to focus her mindset on the man in front of her. She studied his face, his heavy eyes, the slag running up his neck, the stubble across his chin, the cybernetics in his pale green eye.

The presence of the sniper crawled away only to be replaced with something far worse. Her mind raced with questions regarding the fallout. What will he do when he finds out? Will he drug me with Eridium? Keep me under control? How likely is he to act like Jack once he realises I cannot control it.

“How long has this been happening?”

His voice drew her back to reality.

“Not long," Angel lied again as she clutched her hands tight. "It's only because of my Eridium withdrawals.”

“You lost control before, that's how my cloaking device got fried, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she replied meekly. She must have trembled under his grasp as Lawrence slowly retracted his hands.

“I’m not mad,” Lawrence sighed.

“You’re not?”

Lawrence replied with a deep chuckle, “no I’m not,” before he leaned back to give her more space.

“I can’t really be mad after the shit I pulled,” he recollected with another weak smile.  

Angel's lip twitched towards a smile, it still amused her to hear her Dad’s voice cuss.

Lawrence ran a hand down the back of his neck, letting his fingers trace the dark veins. His gaze left hers and he suddenly became very interested in the gravel between them.

“And...I’m sorry about that. I should have apologised properly earlier.”

He mumbled something about Jack not apologising before he looked her in the eye and gave her such a pathetic miserable smile that it made Angel's own grin widen. It was certainly a look she was not used to seeing on Jack’s face.

“So, I’m sorry again. Yep, sorry. We ah, we good?” Lawrence stuttered his apology, every word so unlike Jack.

“Not even close,” she crossed her arms, although her tone was light.

He cleared his throat and told her to get some more rest. Angel didn't trust herself to close her eyes again, but she managed to relax into the swag. Lawrence remained where he was, not close enough to reach out too but close enough to know he was watching over her.

The Pandora sun was finally preparing to set, the shade they had parked under was large enough to keep them all comfortably cool. Angel laid there for what seemed like cycles, trying to process everything that had happened and what was going to happen.

It took her a long time to roll back over and face Lawrence, he hadn't moved, he was sitting up and silently watching some rakk's fly overhead.

She'd concluded she was going to tell him about Jack.

She told Lawrence about the chair Jack designed, how it locked her mind into one device so she couldn’t get overwhelmed with all the technology around her. It was harder to tell him about her accident, how as a child she had blown up a reactor. Whereby the only woman who had loved her was consumed with flames, taken away from her before she could remember her face.

Lawrence listened, he didn't interrupt her, didn't press her with questions. He just let her talk at her own pace. It was almost unnerving, to see the image of her Dad acting so considerate and patient. After she was finished, he cursed Jack, which made her smile.

"I lost my mother too," Lawrence said quietly.

His shoulders slumped as he spoke, "I mean, it was nothing like what you went through, but she was the only family I had."

"I know."

"Wh-how?...oh right…Dammit, Nyx," he cursed, but there was no malice in his voice.

Lawrence didn't speak for a while after that. She wasn't sure if her prying had upset him as he kept his face hidden in his arms against his knees.

Eventually, he lifted his head and turned to face her again.

"I only found out she died when the money I sent her rebounded. She never knew it was from me, she thought I was dead. She even laughed when they told her. Her failure of a son, killed in a hit-and-run."

Angel couldn't fathom how Lawrence was able to maintain such a monotone disposition.

"You know, Jack let me pick my death? I thought the spontaneity of a sudden and almost vengeance inspiring death would envoke some empathy into her. Guess I was wrong."

Angel asked before she could stop herself, "what happened to her?"

"I don't know. I...I never found out."

Dread slithered around in her chest as she realised what he meant. He chose not to find out because he didn't want to know if Jack was the one responsible. In all likelihood, it would have been him. Angel wished she wasn't the way she was, always pressing questions she shouldn't ask.

However, Lawrence seemed unphased as his tone returned to a lighter tune, "So what else did Nyx tell you?"

"That you made them and you're the one who removed their AI Laws," Angel gave him a soft smile. Curious and eager to hear how he came about creating them.

However, Lawrence abruptly looked away, his gaze landed near the sun, and so Angel couldn't study his face.

"Yeah, I made them."

He left it at that and Angel knew the conversation regarding the past over.

Eventually (and thankfully), Lawrence complained how hungry he was, and Angel nearly cheered that they were finally going to source some food. They hadn’t eaten since they left the safe house. All they could scavenge were a few protein bars. Lawrence had let her pick her flavour out of strawberry or chocolate. She had chosen chocolate, and that pleased him as he had eagerly taken the strawberry one.

He told her he’d sort something out and went to the edge of the cliff to set up his sniper. Angel curled up in the swag, with the sun setting the temperature was going to drop drastically. She was determined to get a few more hours sleep, and with all the devices with software wisely stored away, she could have some peace of mind.

* * *

“Is the plan to escape Pandora with the help of the girl going ahead?" Crake questioned him as he scouted out a suitable place to set up.

"Angel," Lawrence corrected, "Crake, use her damn name."

Crake just grunted in reply.

Lawrence found a spot which overlooked most of the gorge below, the sun was setting fast, and soon he wouldn't have the light to locate a decent target. Skag meat wasn't the best, but it was food.

"And yes, I'm not hanging around to see this place ablaze. Or whatever Jack ends up doing with the Warrior."

“Well, what about Jack?”

“What about him?”

Crake shifted on the spot, his hands tightened behind his back. “I just thought…with your condition-”

“I'm done discussing it, I'm not going back,” Lawrence asserted, probably a little too forcibly as Crake nodded and withdrew.

Lawrence bit his tongue, he shouldn’t snap at Crake, he may be AI, but without the AI laws, he was as human as him.

He finished setting up his sniper and pushed out his mat. After he settled down, he rolled over to check in on Angel. She had tried to sleep, but once Lawrence released Nyx and Crake, the cyan digistruct made that impossible. Lawrence noted he should probably have a word with him, the last thing he needed was Nyx upsetting her and setting off her Siren powers again. Nyx wasn't always tactful.

She was sitting on a cluster of boulders, her arms were making dramatic movements as she sat in a heated conversation with Nyx.  

Lawrence returned his attention back to the scope of his sniper, he scouted out a skag den and was hoping he'd catch the moment one of them peaked out. Crake sat down beside him and leaned back on his palms, relaxing for the first time in days.

"How are your reflexes? Have you experience any tremors yet?"

"Crake!" Lawrence snapped, "I'm fine."

Crake just huffed and ignored him, "what happens when you can't fight anymore? Run? Walk?"

"We've already discussed this," Lawrence pulled away and fired a scowl the magenta digistruct's way.

"I never agreed," he replied flatly.

Lawrence had a point he wanted to argue back, but the rumble of an engine pulled him to his scope. He found the source and watched as a small, and a very domestic looking car drove across the desert. The vehicle slowed down, allowing the dust cloud behind it to catch up before taking a sharp corner up a path Lawrence couldn't have seen before in the low light.

There was a shack at the end of the road. The car pulled up and parked beside it. It wasn't more than four hundred meters away from them if the owner had been home when they passed things could have played out very differently for them both.

Lawrence assumed Crake was intently watching too, most likely annoyed he hadn't spied the place himself.

"he's getting out."

"I can see that," Lawrence replied curtly.

He pressed his weight into the sniper, preparing for the kickback.  Lawrence let his sight trail after the man, anticipating every step he took, eyeing the pace and watching how he moved towards the shack.

Should he shoot now as he passed? Or risk waiting for a cleaner shot.

He took the shot.

The fire bounced along the entire gorge, Lawrence felt his ears ring as he pressed against the scope to see the damage.

The man was dead, a bright green corrosive fluid bubbled around where his head should have been. Lawrence patiently kept his focus and watched for any movement. When no one ran from the shack or crawled from the walls, he felt satisfied to pull away.

He leaned up and pulled his sniper over his shoulder. When he turned, he saw Angel huddled up on the boulder with Nyx standing guard in front of her.

"Everything ok?" Nyx queried, all while keeping an arm in front of Angel.

Lawrence adjusted his holster and walked towards them.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Angel nodded slowly and pushed herself onto the ground.

Lawrence motioned towards the truck, "Alright, everyone in. Let's see what we've got."

* * *

There wasn't much point in hiding the dead man's body, Angel had a full view of it as they approached. Her bright gem-like eyes grew wide as she stared down at the headless corpse in the headlights. 

"Why did you shoot him?" she rounded on him.

He hunched up his shoulders, "because he's just a bandit," Lawrence realised his answer sounded more pathetic the longer she glared at him.

"He doesn't look like one."

She was right, but Lawrence didn't admit it. The old man was dressed in casual clothes, no armour and no holster. Lawrence was beginning to doubt they'd find anything of value inside the shack.

"No one resides on a border planet for a good reason," he finally answered, and Angel remained silent.

He kicked the truck door open and Crake pixelated to his side while Nyx stayed over with Angel.

"Stay in the truck."

Crake gave a warning glare to Nyx to stay put, thankfully Angel didn't protest and waited in the passenger seat.

"See what you can find.”

Crake nodded and disappeared, a soft magenta glow from under the windows told Lawrence he'd moved inside the house. A moment passed, and he reappeared in front of him.

"All clear, no one human is inside."

"Human?"

"There's a skag on a bed. Has a collar, looks like a pet."

"Perfect," Lawrence drawled. Angel will likely have something to say to that.

"Alright, let them out," Lawrence asked Crake as he made to the front door.

There was a tiny board porch which seemed like someone had poured love and attention into building it. As there was a carved railing to go along with it. Wooden ornate pillars supported a beam across the deck. Lawrence ignored the feelings of doubt growing within him.

The door was unlocked, damn what kind of person was this guy? Lawrence gave a worried glance back to Crake who only returned a puzzled look.

Angel had left the truck but didn't venture further past the dead man. Nyx thankfully stayed by her side.

Lawrence entered without any disputes, or guns in his face. He spied a pack of cigarettes, sitting on a checked tablecloth with an ashtray nearby.  He snatched them up before Angel followed in behind him.

"homely," she whispered softly.

Lawrence chose to ignore her commentary as he marched towards the cupboards and promptly started pulling everything open.

"Grab anything of value, edible, or drinkable."

When Angel didn't respond Lawrence turned and discovered her eyes were fixed on the skag curled on the bed in the corner of the room.

Her arm slowly raised as she took a step towards it.

"Angel, no, leave it," Lawrence commanded, but to no avail.

She gave him a wild glare before marching over to the skag and proceeded to give it a pat. Lawrence took a step to intervene, yet the beast responded ecstatically. It immediately rolled over to permit her to rub its belly as it made pathetic happy noises.

Lawrence internally groaned, they could not take it with them, but he knew the conversation was going to come up.

"Can we-"

"No" Lawrence snapped, "food, water, things of value, now."

Angel hissed something quietly back in reply. Lawrence knew by now that the word uttered was 'arsehole'.

Lawrence returned to sorting through the old man's things. He pulled out one expired can of chilli, Lawrence cursed, it wasn't even the good stuff. Next, he found some handwritten recipes, and what he could only assume were poems. He tossed what they didn't need to the floor while separating the goods into sections on the table. After some rummaging, all they had was two cans of chilli, a handful of dried pasta and some questionable looking figs in a jar (he put those back).

It was enough for two meals, maybe four if they rationed carefully.

Lawrence threw a sideways glance to the skag, which he hoped Angel didn't see.

"No," She replied firmly all while still petting its stomach.

"Angel, there's not enough here, you'll be singing a different tune once starvation kicks in."

"He's some one's pet!"

Lawrence threw an arm towards the front door, "not anymore."

“You can’t eat him! I won't!”

Lawrence bit down hard enough for his teeth to grind and felt his hand instinctively twitch towards his holster.

Crake intervened, "let's look around back."

Lawrence drew in a sharp breath and nodded, had he always lost his temper this quickly? Without sparing Angel and her new best friend his scrutiny, he turned for the door.

"Little harsh killing the thing?" Crake questioned him once they were in the clear.

"She won't care when she's collapsed from exhaustion, or fleeing from a bandit, or worse."

Crake lead the course around back, his magenta glow was enough to light the path. Lawrence kicked apart a few shrubs as he weaved his way through trash and rusting barrels.

"You forget where we are, what they'd do to...her if they caught her," Lawrence said, tone stiff with resentment.

Crake sighed which Lawrence took as agreement.

They scouted out back, Lawrence didn't hold his breath as he knocked over a barrel and combed through the contents. There wasn't much else to search, only a few square meters of dirt and rubbish before a sharp rock face prevented them from advancing further.

Lawrence ran a hand down his lean face, wiping away the sweat and dust that had collected over it. He resigned away thoughts of a good find. The skag may not be spared, after all, at least Nisha had taught him how to prep the meat. He glanced back down the path they had trodden, deploring the impending confrontation. He could hear them through the walls; Angel was murmuring soft pet names to the damn thing, and Nyx was partaking with the same enthusiasm.

"Lawrence," Crake called.

He swung back around, Crake was gesturing towards the earth under the cabin. Lawrence trailed his line of sight over to the spot Crake was pointing too. A wooden slat door - obscured by the light - was embedded into the ground just an arms reach away.

"Nice spot," Lawrence gave him a congratulating grin.

Crake folded his arms and returned a self-satisfied smirk.

"Nyx, wait with Angel," Lawrence called so the two of them could hear him through the wall.

Crake advanced and lowered his laser down at the trap door's entrance, he nodded when his aim was secured. Lawrence knelt beside handle, yet keeping as much distance as possible when he flung it open. The door gave a metal grating screech as the hinges protested to being moved so suddenly, the door fell to the ground with a hollow thud. Lawrence immediately retracted his hand when the opening was exposed, the two of them waited patiently, eyes focused on the dark entrance below. Lawrence steadied himself as he waited out the standoff with trap door entrance.

When no one threw up a grenade or erupted the evening with gunfire Lawrence relaxed the tightness in his chest. However, he couldn't dismiss the unnerving sensation scratching inside him, as he stared at the entrance which yielded no noise or light.

Crake moved forward and leaned over the threshold.

"I can't see a thing."

When Lawrence tilted forward, Crake flung an arm in his way.

"I'll go, you stay here," and he pixelated away before Lawrence could discuss the matter.

Without Crake to hold him back, Lawrence leaned forward. Crake appeared several metres down, encased in darkness, only visible by his soft magenta glow.

"Anything?" Lawrence called.

"I'm not really sure what I'm looking at."

"Well is it..bad?" Lawrence stressed.

"Not that I can tell."

Lawrence scoffed. Crake's information was usually practical, and concise. However, the conversation gave him nothing.

"I'm coming down."

Lawrence gradually raised a leg and lowered it down into the swallowing darkness. He pressed and scraped his foot against the walls in an attempt to locate a ladder. Upon success, he dropped into obscurity. Every step he took swallowed the light and himself with it. His hands seized the grime covered metal as his feet tried to locate the next step. Every level down strengthened the dread clawing within him, some deep primal part of him knew this was not a place of honour. Reason told him there was nothing to fear, doubt told him he should to go back to the light, grab Angel and flee. He couldn't withhold releasing a long-held breath as he reached the ground below. He raised himself up and located Crake. The magenta digistruct had a small beam of light radiating from his hand, other than that the room was completely black.

He unholstered his Jakobs pistol and took his first step towards what he assumed to be the centre of the room. It was dark, suffocating even, he couldn't see beyond Crakes magenta frame.

Crake lead him to a small table, his hand raised forward lighting a path for them both. It was an industrial make, almost surgical in its appearance, trays were littered across the top, tongs and other utensils were beside it. Lawrence leaned in close to Crake and studied the fluid contents inside one of the dishes. What on earth were they looking at? Crake raised his arm higher, so the light reached the roof. Rows and rows of string were hung up from one corner to the other. Pegs were clipped here and there, and paper sheets hung down from some.

The realisation of what they were seeing hit Lawrence with a wave of deep relief.

"Shine that way could you?" He pointed over to the far wall which was now coming into focus as his eyes adjusted.

Crake moved his arm across and just as Lawrence suspected it was covered in photos, along with a few cameras and other assorted photography equipment.

"What is it?"

"We're in a dark room, its a room for developing photography, but old school style, very old school." Lawrence breathed out with a sense of appreciation lingering in his voice.

"Call the others will you?" Crake nodded and wordlessly communicated with his cyan brother.

"They're coming," he said after a moments pause.

Lawrence walked over to the far wall with a confident stride now that the claws in his chest had subsided. He examined the closest camera and turned it over in his hands assessing the weight of it. He'd forgotten how heavy these things were, nothing like the tiny digital lenses on their echo's.

"Lawrence?" Angel called from atop the stairs.

"It's clear! com'on down and check it out."

Lawrence made his way over to the ladder and reached up to guide her down. Angel's decent was not as hesitant as his, but she did clutch to the steps as if it were her only lifeline.

"What...is it?" she asked as her feet hit the ground.

Nyx burst to her side with a blast of bright pixels, making her jump (Crake and Lawrence were unfazed by his teleporting antics).

"It's a dark room!" Lawrence couldn't help but beam as he examined the camera in front of him.

Angel stepped closer and peered over at the black metal device in his hands.

"I've not seen anything like since my college days."

Nyx opened his palm, so they had a second light source. He walked beside Angel as she made her way to the wall which Lawrence had just been examining. Lawrence followed after them.

The wall was covered in photos, most were black and white, and some happened to be framed. Yet they all depicted the same thing, sunsets. A few captured the dunes they had passed a cycle earlier, but they all had the sun setting (or rising Lawrence couldn't really tell) in the background.

"He...wasn't a bandit. Just some old photographer," Angel admitted what they all had been thinking.

"Is this what you do?" Angel said bitterly.

Lawrence ignored her.

"Kill old men who just want to take pretty pictures?"

"They're rather average," Lawrence confessed as he turned away from her.

Angel continued to inspect the wall, as he ventured further into the room. He discovered several handmade bookshelves in another corner. All of them were filled with albums depicting more sunsets, Crake provided him with the light as he tossed through them.

Crake softly whispered to him so only Lawrence could here, "over there," and he pointed to an album pile discarded in the darkest reaches of the room.

Lawrence picked up the topmost book from the pile, and with Crakes light he was able to read the cover. Crake's eyes widen, a sudden look of acknowledgement passed between them. Lawrence was holding a primary school yearbook from Eden-5. He even recognised the school.

"He's not Pandoran," Crake warned.

A silent conversation fell over them. Crake glanced at Angel, his brow knitted together. Concern was an odd expression on the magenta double.

"There's a whole lot of them."

Lawrence picked up another one of the photo albums and flipped through it. Article after article was taped in; hard copy style. He hadn't seen something like in a long time. The dates were thirty even forty years old and ranged from Eden-1 all the way to Eden-7.

Newspaper clippings about accusations at a school, police statements, court hearings, victim statements, it when on. Lawrence gingerly placed the book down, so not to draw attention, and picked up another. It was the same, and so were the next three.

Lawrence's gut turned as read on. The identity of the man he'd just murdered was unfolding, every page revealed a more grisly detail. There were more photos of children, missing posters, notes for the construction of instruments that Lawrence didn't want to think about.

Lawrence glanced up from the album, his bi-coloured eyes met Crake's red-hued ones. He was wearing that monstrous expression that Jack would wear when the world was going to burn.

This sick fuck had run away from it all. Came to the Borderlands and set up a little cottage to retire. Without children to photograph he'd taken upon sunsets. Lawrence stared up at the photos hanging above them, the sudden urge to rip everything down overwhelmed him. However, Crake laid a hand on his shoulder, the static in his digital palm sent a slight jolt down his spine.

Lawrence threw the book shut and tossed it to the ground. The sudden disturbance caused Angel to ask if everything was ok.

 _Angel, oh god,_ Lawrence suppressed the sudden urge to be sick.

"Get her out of here," Crake hissed to Lawrence.

Lawrence hastily nodded his head.

"We're leaving, come on," he raised a hand and beckon her towards the ladder.

Angel shifted and held up one of the cameras.

"I'm taking his camera. I can right? Looting is what you do?"

"No, leave it," Lawrence interjected.

His jaw clenched tight at the worried and taken aback look on her face, Lawrence despised his tone, but he needed to get them out of this dungeon.

"You can be such an arsehole," she marched passed him and deliberately didn't break eye contact as she ascended the ladder.

"Seriously Lawrence?" Nyx scoffed unamused.

"Go after her Nyx," Crake replied flatly.

They waited until they were both out of earshot.

"What do we do now?" Crake sighed, arms crossed.

"Burn this fucking place down," Lawrence turned and follow Angel up.

* * *

Angel's shoulders were slumped, arms fretting nervously against one another. Her eyes were golden orbs as she wearily watched the supporting beam of the cabin collapse.

"Such a waste, burning everything," she finally spoke when no one else dared.

The skag was happily nudging at Lawrence's pants, but he continued to pay it no mind. He waited until flames engulfed the last of the deck, the hand-carved pillars would be nothing but ash.

He'd dragged the old man's body and dumped it into the dark room before he knocked down a fuel canister and set it ablaze. The rest was tossed in the cabin, his lighter did the rest.

Lawrence pulled out the cigarettes he'd taken from the man. He considered tossing them, and it repulsed him when he decided to keep them. He needed the nicotine. Any other addictive substance was better than the gnawing on his mind for more Eridium.

Crake stood in front of Angel the entire time. His silhouette was against the red blaze in front of him. He said nothing as the last of cabin's support collapsed.

Damn, he fucking hated this planet. Jack was right, it did deserve to be burnt to ashes he just needed to make sure he wasn’t around when it was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this fic may have suspense tagged on it, but I have no idea how to write suspense. This is my first try at it, and I hope I was able to incite some dread into you as you followed Tim. 
> 
> Also, longest chapter to date! Thank you to my regular commenters, you know who you are, you guys are seriously the best! and give me so much confidence writing. This is my first fic, and sometimes I just want to quit as I have no idea what I'm doing (I'm getting there). 
> 
> Next update; Tim rage quits.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	19. MeatFace is a Solid Name

If Lawrence thought he was subtle about his new attire, then he was a fool, or he took her for one. His shirt had always been rolled to his elbows; just like Jack. Now it fell to his wrists, hiding the slag still thriving in his veins.

Slag infections were notoriously hard to throw off, but she hadn't heard of a case lasting this long once the source had been removed. Jack had worked hard to keep her unaware of the horrors happening at the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve, but she always found a way. There wasn’t a cyber wall Jack could code that she couldn’t break. When she was still his baby girl, he'd put her up to the challenge, cheered and hugged her every time she broke them down. Over time the celebrations were less frequent, Jack demanded more of her, wanted her to steal for him, to spy, to destroy and manipulate lives.

In the end, he resented her skill and power.

Angel sighed, she was regressing into bitter thoughts. Exhaustion was wearing her mind to sleep, she curled away from the fire to let the blaze warm her back. Lawrence had shown her how to set up her swag correctly, Angel concluded she liked her new bed and the way it shielded her from others if she desired she could bury herself under the canvas and block the world out.

Nyx was cheering not too far away. He worked out (with some help from her) how to create a ‘ball’ and was throwing it for the skag to chase. The poor beast couldn’t pick it up, but she seemed to be enjoying it. Crake had told her it was a girl because of the striped markings down its back. Angel wanted to keep the name 'Skaggy Mc MeatFace' which was inscribed on its collar. However, Lawrence and Crake protested the idea, said it had a new owner. Therefore it needed a new name. Nyx, on the other hand, loved it.

For once, in a long time, she didn't feel restless, the fire crackled behind her the sun had gone down, and the conversations around her were welcoming when they had once shattered her fragile courage.

Lawrence was engaging in a quiet discussion with Crake, the burner spitting oil cancelled out a lot of the background noise. Angel strived to overhear what was being said. The two of them had been inseparable since they left the safe house. Currently, they seemed to be reminiscing about some adventures out in The Dust, Crake’s tone soft, enamoured even, as he remembered the slaughter. Lawrence was little more hesitant to rejoice in the memory battle.

“Bullets actually hurt me, I remember eating about a dozen that day.”

“If you had taken my advice and approached from the west cliff face you may not have ‘eaten’ so many bullets,” Crake jeered.

Lawrence snorted, “Your wisdom, always so insightful. After the fact.”

MeatFace continued to bark in the background, and Nyx yelled something back to the beast. Angel hugged her shoulders, she hoped Lawrence would let her keep her; she'd never had a pet. She had wanted a cat, something small that could curl up on her lap as she worked. Jack hated cats, said the only thing they were good for was sitting at the bottom of the river in a bag filled with stones. When he'd told her that, it had seemed like such a reasonable thing to say.

Angel had been seven.

She bit her lip, how could anyone tell a seven-year-old that.

Maybe she could reason to Lawrence that MeatFace could offer her protection? Although, after recalling how submissive and eager it was for affection Angel rationalised that may not be an easy case to win.

Lawrence must have tinkered with the burner as the heat from flames started to lick her shoulders. She turned over, peeping her head out from under the covers of the canvas. The outlines of Crake and Lawrence were scarcely visible, they sat huddled over on the other side of the fire.

It was a lot easier now to distinguish Lawrence's voice from Jack's. Lawrence sighed, groaned, and swore more, besides he didn't fill in silence with the sound of his own voice.

“How would you feel getting digistructed bodies? Proper ones." Lawrence's tone was casual, but Angel sensed a tightness in his voice.

Crake didn't reply.

"Maybe we can find some bloody time to get that done. Once this shit show is over,” Lawrence sighed, and Angel heard him shift around restlessly.

“I’m not really phased," Crake eventually answered.

He made a noise that sounded like a grunt or clearing his throat which Angel gathered as usual for the AI; too human, or too human for Crake.

"I know Nyx wants to have a ‘real’ body. He's obsessed with human senses...” Crake trailed off.

“You warned me that would happen.”

“ _I did_ , and you didn’t listen,” Crake replied with a low growl.

“You also tried to kill me afterwards, so I think we’re even.”

Angel's thoughts quickened as did her heart as she considered their violent fallout. Lawrence only cracked his shoulders and let out a long groan seemingly unphased by what had once happened.

“Nyx will be fine, he has us. We won’t let...that happen.”

Angel new every line and clause in Hyperion's AI laws. After Handsome Jack took over, they became increasingly more rigorous and constrained. Stamping out personality modules and any element which would allude to a ‘soul’.

Lawrence was wise to hide Nyx and Crake's true identities from him.

Nyx’s desire to be more human is one of the core reasons AI’s have the laws. Angel cringed at the thought of being forever embedded into a network or stuck into a non-tangible existence. It would drive anyone - AI or human - mad.

There were no happy tales of an AI with a mind of its own.

Angel recalled the sombre look on Nyx's face when she dug her toes into the sand. She wanted to feel, touch and smell, everything she had been deprived of for years, but now she was in the company of someone who couldn’t do those things at all.

If the AI laws were still in place, Nyx wouldn't even consider what it meant to feel these things. Angel wondered how Crake was coping. Did he want to be human too? Or was he treading towards another path?

When she had the tools and the means she would help Nyx, and Crake too if he wanted it.

Lawrence let out another long groan, much akin to how John would after he’d been coding a way to some early hour. If she closed her eyes, maybe, just for a moment, she could pretend it was her Dad sitting by the fire. They were on a camping trip to his home planet Tantalus, they had a dog, and her mum was playing fetch.

Angel let a smile draw over her features, it was a false memory, but she could convince herself to be real if she tried. She hoped she'd dream of such a time. Angel felt her head grow heavy, shoulders relaxing into the comfort of the mattress. Sleep could have taken her away at that moment. However, a dazzling blue light erupted next to her.

"Convey coming this way!" Nyx cried out.

Angel flung herself up from inside the swag, she battled with the material till she was free and in the open air. Lawrence was already on his feet, gun unholstered and kicking sand onto the burner, diminishing the flames. Crake marched over to his brother.

"Angel!" Lawrence waved a hand to her, and she scrambled up to meet him.

She met him at his side, and Lawrence moved forward to put the cliff edge in front of them. His hand was slightly raised to keep her shielded behind him.

"How far? How many?" Crake pressed his brother.

"Four trucks, no idea how many are in them, canvas trailers on the back. So who knows what they're carrying." Nyx replied quickly.

MeatFace had caught up to Nyx and was trying to rub her head against his legs to no avail.

"That's too many to take on," Lawrence growled, "lets hope they pass by without a fight."

They all wordlessly agreed

"Do you think they're friends of the man you...killed?" Angel asked quietly.

"Not likely," Crake replied bitterly.

Angel turned her attention to the red digistruct. Crake had been more on edge than usual and was continually glancing her way. She sometimes caught a worried or anguished look on his face. Angel found herself flinching away from his red eye gaze, why he was so intent on watching her?

Lawrence paced over to the cliff edge, lowering himself before looking over and Angel followed. Lawrence opened his mouth to say something, most likely to tell her to stand back, but he didn't bother.

Nyx pointed a digital hand forward. "There, those headlights, they're still a while away. I doubt they saw our fire."

Angel had to squint to see, but far off in the dusk were a series of light yellow orbs moving along the gorge.

No one said a word as the approached.

Lawrence had put away his pistol and summoned his sniper. Angel just hoped it wouldn't be needed. How could the four of them take on that many?

The heavily armed vehicles passed underneath them, engines roaring in the evening. No doubt they were a formidable presence in the quiet desert.

Crake leaned further forward.

"The signals on the trucks," he spoke slowly, "I don't recognise it."

"Same," Angel agreed.

Crake gave her a perplexed look.

"I used to practically live in the echo-net, I got to see a lot of things, and that symbol isn't one of them."

"Right" Lawrence stated to no one.

The signal comprised of two wolves, one devouring the other, jaws tearing at the throat, while a cracked moon loomed in the background. Was that Elpis?

"Any ideas?" Lawrence asked, while his face was pressed to the scope.

"I'll ask Felicity when she's back."

Lawrence delivered Angel a look to match Crake's.

"Shes 'out' you could say. Exploring the echo-nett. Now that she's free."

Angel hadn't meant to sound so judgmental, but it slipped out either way.

Lawrence tensed, lips thin, and turned away from her.

Crake continued to silently watch her before he too returned to watching the passing convoy. The dust began to reach them on their little cliff edge, momentarily obscuring their vision. As it cleared the convoy continued to travel north, right to the heart of the desert. They all silently observed as the vehicles disappeared into the night.

* * *

“CUNT-OF-A-CAR!”

The engine had stalled again, and Lawrence proceeded to jam his fist against the steering wheel. Angel placed her echo to her side, unable to focus on her novel while he continued to yell at an inanimate object.

“Timothy!” Felicity berated out of Angel's echo-comm.

“WHAT?!” he rounded towards Angel.

“ _Watch-your-mouth_ ,” the AI warned.

“Fucking perfect, because one AI lecturing me wasn’t enough!”

Crake was leaning against the trailer component, legs forward and arms crossed. He opened his mouth to say something then promptly closed it. Lawrence kicked the door open and stumbled out of the truck, he tried to slam the bent metal shut, but it only swung back and hit him in the shoulder.

“Fuck!”

Lawrence punched the car side mirror so hard it snapped off, and Angel threw her eyes back to her echo, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Lawrence's rage. He summoned his sniper and stalked away to the cliff edge.

Nyx leaned in close, hands rubbing against one another.

"I should probably not sit this one out," he told her quietly.

She nodded in agreement as she wrapped her rug tighter around her shoulders. The blue digistruct burst away in a bright array of pixels and followed after Lawrence, Crake did so soon after.

* * *

Lawrence summoned his sniper and stormed towards the spot he’d reserved for shooting.

The truck wouldn’t start, they had no food and were in the middle of the fucking Dust. The Pandora night was underway, and he'd first freeze to death than suffer dehydration. The AI’s need not worry, not like that have any bodies to feed or hydrate.

If they didn't get on the road soon that Skaggy McMeatFace or whatever Angel was calling it was going back on the menu.

Lawrence detected footsteps trailing behind him, it set him on edge listening to the skag. He was so used to Nyx and Crake's silent steps. Lawrence had given the skag ONE piece of chilli pasta, and the damn thing hadn't left him alone. He told Angel feeding it was coming out of her rations, he should have stuck to that policy.

"Go back to Angel!" He pointed toward her direction. The dumb beast just whined at him, "go! NOW!"

That set it off, and it bounded towards the safety of its new owner.

“We should talk,” Felicity abruptly pulled him out of thoughts of cooking skags.

“Now you want to talk?" Lawrence's voice was venomous. His patience had expired long ago.

"I had my back snapped in half and drugged with Eridium trying to bring you back, and you haven't said a word to me in days,” Lawrence snapped, breathing heavy.

Crake told him to shut up and listen, Lawrence threw a rock off the gorge in response. It was too dark to see where it landed, but he hoped it had hit something and caused pain. Nyx had surprisingly followed along and was standing behind him, doing that fretting thing where he ran his hands through his hair repeatedly. Lawrence unclipped his echo and threw it roughly onto a boulder nearby, so the War AI had a full view of him.

Felicity took over his echo, and her profile stared back expression flat.

"You're no longer the same man I met on Elpis," she stated flatly.

Lawrence threw his arms out and stood back to let her have a clear view, "congratulation, on that observation."

"That man had been a man I trusted," she continued.

Lawrence opened his mouth to retort back, but she got in first

"As foolish as that trust was placed, I believed Timothy Lawrence had decency. Maybe he was a tad cowardice, but nonetheless, I thought he'd be brave enough to stand up and speak when he knew something was wrong."

"You sound disappointed," Lawrence gave a heartfelt cry of laughter. "You would have loved my mother, I would introduce you, but pretty sure Jack painted my childhood bedroom walls with her brains."

"Why did you do it," she didn't sound hurt, no, her voice was cold and empty of any sentiment.

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders, "as you said, I was a coward."

Nyx stepped forward, jaw open as if he wanted to intervene but a wild glare from Lawrence pushed him back.

"Tim-"

"I'm not Tim anymore, Jack saw to that a long time ago."

Lawrence rounded towards his comm.

"Can't you tell?" and he instinctively threw a finger up to his face showing off his scar to the Dahl AI.

Lawrence drew himself up, arms twitching at his side, eager to shoot.

"And I don't recall giving you permission to enter my echo device," he said, voice low.

"Angel did, in case something were to happen."

"Of course she did," Lawrence snapped.

He rolled his shoulders and felt every bone and muscle grind from the act. He didn't need this, he didn't need Felicity's scrutiny, Angel's bitter sideways glances, Crakes worried looks. For once Nyx was welcomed company as he was utterly oblivious to what was happening to him.

Jack always had a plan. A backup plan for his back plans he would say. He'd never get into this mess. Lawrence ran his fingers over the raised lines down his neck. They won't go away, not now. Not since he'd had another Eridium treatment. He'd been told one more was all it was going to take.

Lawrence raised his gaze away from the gorge back to his echo-comm. He was going to need Felicity, Angel was the priority, and he wasn't in any condition to do this on his own.

"I did try to bring you back," Lawrence eventually spoke.

Felicity stuttered something, seemingly caught off guard by Lawrence's sudden change of tone. She paused, undoubtedly to regain her composure before continuing.

"I know," she admitted quietly, "and a part of me is thankful. The other part would like to hack Hyperion's moon-shooting capabilities and blast you off this cliff face."

Lawrence snorted to that.

"I wouldn't blame you," he sighed.

The curdling anger inside him subsided. He’d gotten so good at channelling Jack’s rage he’d often lose sight. He’d once had so much clarity, why was everything such a hazy mess. Lawrence glanced at the slag in his wrist before adjusting his sleeve to hide the purple trails.

"I have to ask. What are you planning to do with Angel?"

Lawrence scoffed, feigning offence. He knew the AI had every reason to doubt him. Especially after his recent tantrum.

"I'm taking her to the Vault Hunters like I promised."

"Your promises aren't worth a lot."

Lawrence clenched his hands and resisted throwing the comm off the cliff as well.

"I will do as I said," he finished flatly.

"Good, and I'll assist you any way I can."

Felicity's authoritative tone dropped away, "Angel...She's suffered enough. The poor dear. I...won't let anything happen to her."

Lawrence silently nodded in agreement as he rubbed his arm.

" _As_ _to_ _you_ _two_ ," Felicity's voice was sharp again, and Lawrence knew she was directing it to Nyx and Crake.

"Last time I saw you, you were only spitting one-liners and shooting anything that moved."

Nyx jumped forward beaming, "we got an upgrade! Lawrence built us up from some hanky-panky Jack AI."

Nyx gave Lawrence genuine smile, all while swaying on the spot with enthusiasm, hands on hips. Lawrence's teeth were almost grounded level. Crake just rolled his shoulders back and cocked his hip to the side...and was he flexing?

"Lawrence wasn't satisfied at that, he then destroyed our AI laws," he drawled in a manner too Jack-like for Lawrence's liking.

"And the reason being?" Felicity asked slowly.

"Ask him," Crake spat.

"Did you really want to be that megalomanic for eternity? I unshackled you from having to be Jack," Lawrence reasoned, tone sharp.

Crake leaned forward, eyes glancing between him and the echo-comm.

"And subsequently you gave us a whole host of other issues" Crake seethed, his voice toeing the line towards a threat.

Nyx had returned to silently observing their outbursts, hands rubbing together.

"You did it for your own selfish reasons, nothing more." Crake leaned away from Lawrence, straightening up in an attempt to tower over him.

"So, you are just like Jack," Felicity commented.

"I'm nothing like him-"  
"I'm not Jack-"

Both Crake and Lawrence snapped.

"Right," she said, unimpressed by their defiant attitudes.

Lawrence sighed, he hated fighting with Crake. It was pointless.  
He swung his sniper over his head and began to set it up. Maybe he could claim a kill for lunch, Crake seemed to enjoy sniping, as an old man would fishing with his mates. He was sure they'd be back at their usual banter in no time.

"I'm sorry," Lawrence grumbled as he threw himself to the ground. "I'm not myself at the moment. Everything is a mess, this planet, this situation, this shit in my body."

Crake groaned, "I can tell."

Lawrence glanced down the scope, noting he needed to change it over. He summoned the night vision accessory from his gear chip, it fell into his hand without issue, yet when Lawrence tried to grasp it, he fumbled. The scope fell to the ground, it bounces a few times, and Lawrence perilously sought to snatch it, but his hands just didn't seem to be able to keep up. The scope rolled over the gravel and off the edge of the cliff.

Both him, Crake and Nyx (and presumably Felicity) watched as it bounced off the boulders below before it disappeared into the dark Dust below.

Lawrence slowly raised his hand and held it in front of him, his fingers shook uncontrollably, in fact, his whole arm was unstable.

This wasn’t meant to be happening, no not yet, they said he'd have more time.

His hand persisted to spasm even as he willed it still. He cursed as he clenched his palm tight trying to regain control of his muscles, upon releasing, his fingers they finally remained still.

“Why didn’t you tell me it had started,” Crake hissed leaning in closer to Lawrence.

“I..It..hadn't, till now,” Lawrence spoke slowly, still studying his hands in front of him.

Crake mumbled an apology and tried to look Lawrence's over.

“This is bad,” Lawrence mumbled.

Crakes lip twitched, but he said nothing. Which was enough to assume he silently agreed

"What's wrong with him? Is it the slag poising?" Felicity queried.

Lawrence jaw went tight, teeth pressed into the side of his tongue. He'd forgotten she was there. He couldn't have her tell Angel, he didn't need her to know. Lawrence's patience had been wearing thin for Nyx, and it tore through at that moment.

"He has a condition with his ner-!" Nyx chimed in.

Lawrence's once subsided rage rushed forward. He jumped in and cut off the AI before he could utter another word.

"NYX! GO BACK TO ANGEL, NOW!" he roared at the cyan digistruct and at his absolute idiocy.

Nyx opened his mouth and shot worried glances between Crake and Lawrence before he spoke.

"Whatever," he snarled.

Lawrence opened his mouth to apologise but Nyx disappeared and left nothing behind but a few fragmented pixels. Crake informed him it would be ok, Lawrence knew when Crake lied, they used the same voice after all.

* * *

Lawrence didn't need to curse the truck further, the bullet hole metal bucket blessed them by starting up. But he did curse when he praised it.

"Thank fuck."

Lawrence called Angel over and beckoned the skag to jump onto the trailer component of the truck.

"Another cycle of driving and we should reach the edge of the Dust," he said with a smile. Pushing away all thoughts regarding slag poisoning and his fragile state of being.

They'd been on the road for eight hours, nothing but desert and forests of cactuses passed them. Angel had busied herself with her echo, Felicity spoke up once or twice, but otherwise, the two girls communicated silently with each other.

"Who are we meeting at Hollow Point?" Angel queried, breaking the silence of the desert.

"A friend of mine."

"You have friends?"

The words 'fuck off' was so close to escaping him that he actually chocked as he stopped himself. Angel stared at him intently. He was used to banter with Jack and only Jack. Lawrence shifted in his seat and made sure they were on course.

"Yes, I have friends," Lawrence continued to explain.

"Janey Springs. She was a mechanic on Elpis. Now she's down here. She'll know someone. Last time I checked, she was dating a Vault Hunter," he explained.

"Who?"

"ahh...Athena."

"Oh, I know her," Angel cheered softly.

"Right."

Angel glanced his way, finally pulling her attention away from the echo.

"Does she know we're coming?" she asked, tone almost authoritative.

She'd been listening to the War AI too much, Lawrence mused.

"No. I didn't want to communicate over the echo. The net is hacked to prevent anyone tracking my voice signature," Lawrence sighed, "one benefit of being Jack."

Angel slowly nodded.

"But who knows, Jack may retract the protocol just to get me back. Better to be safe."

"So you're just going to arrive, after how many years and hope she'll help?" Angel said flatly.

"That's pretty much it." Lawrence gave her a quick sideways glance and shrugged. "Even If I wanted to call ahead, I don't have her echo frequency."

"You know I can find it?"

"Don't go doing that. Stay off the network," Lawrence didn't mean  to sound so stern, but he must have as he noticed Angel mouth a word.

She ignored him for some time after that. The only sound she made was to laugh at her echo, again, probably at his expense. Lawrence kept his focus on the road and sought to ignore the shivers racking up his arms. His grip was fierce on the steering wheel, he couldn't spare a moment to lose control like, he did with his night vision scope. The desert was leaving them, the road solid and the start of a river was passing along by them. The track started to move upwards, trailing beside a gorge with the water below them.

“Can Nyx and Crake come out?” Angel's words took him by surprise, Lawrence spared her a quick glance.

“No, they should stay put, they can only be out for so long. I don’t want to lose their battery when we really need it. That convey could still be in the area.”

Angel pressed her knees to her chest and huddled back into the passenger seat. Her head rested against the window as she watched the night and dunes past by.

“Why did you become Jack’s double?”

Lawrence grip on the wheel tightened, and he was sure his heart lunged up his throat.

“Wh-what? Why bring this up?” he stuttered.

“Just making conversation,” Angel pressed her face closer to the cracked window.

He cleared his throat and considered his words carefully. There was no easy answer, and no answer Angel could understand.

“It didn’t matter whether I wanted to be Jack's double or not. I would of become ‘Jack’ either way.”

“Hhm?” Lawrence words captured Angel's attention, and subsequently those of Felicity as well.

“You’re going to need to explain” Felicity chirped in from the echo-comm on Angel's lap.

Lawrence sighed, “I only realised it years later. If I hadn’t gone to Jack for the ‘job’, he would have eventually come to me."

He spoke through thin lips, "and that would’ve been a far messier affair.”

Lawrence rubbed at his collarbone, fingers tracing his scar. He hadn’t thought about any of this in such a long time.

“My bone structure is ninety-eight percent the same as Jack’s, we have the same family genetics, my mother is Greek, was greek?...whatever she’s gone," he rambled. "I also have a background in programming and commerce, perfect to cover all of Jack’s day work.”

There were a few other similarities, but Lawrence kept those to himself. He'd always said money was the reason why he took the gig, everyone understood money. However, in Jack's own words. He was 'perfect'. A weak, desperate man looking for something to define his place in the world even if that meant being someone else. Jack ate him up.

“Essentially I was the perfect candidate, he would’ve never let me get away,” he eventually admitted.

“And you’re a writer" Angel quipped, her tone abruptly becoming lighter. "Although Jack wrote nothing but code his whole life.”

“How do you know that?” Lawrence asked slowly.

“Oh…I um...”

Lawrence rolled his eyes as he lifted a hand from the steering wheel to swipe at his watch.

His doubles burst forward, their expressions strangely confused as they assessed where they were. It was quite comical to see them standing through the truck seats and their hair going through the rooftop as the vehicle sped on.

“What else did you tell her Nyx?” Lawrence drawled, not bothering to direct his scowl towards the cyan digistruct.

The cyan digital floated to the middle of the car and stretched his legs out over the gears and into the console, Crake remained halfway through the dashboard.

“Not much, you had a pretty darn boring life.”

Lawrence snorted, “thanks.”

“Well, what did you look like before?” Angel asked quietly.

Lawrence screwed his face up, he knew the main bullet points, but he couldn't really define his features anymore.

“My hair was brown but more copperish than Jack’s, I had green eyes….” Lawrence trailed off, he no longer had either of his green eyes. “And, um, I had freckles.”

Lawrence hurridly tried to explain, eager to press the conversation away, “Jack destroyed all evidence of my past life, I doubt you’d find any photos of me on social networks or-”

“Found you!” Angel cut him off with a cheer. Her hand was pressed against the echo-comm, flecks of light emitted through her yellow jumper.

“Woah, you could've been my uncle,” she said tone in awe.

“I agree” Felicity commented, "wider nose and smaller chin, but if you change the hair and freckles you get a 'jack'."

“Do you want to see?” Angel asked as she raised the echo-comm towards him.

“No,” Lawrence replied flatly as his hands tightened on the wheel.

This was who he was now.

“I wanna see,” Nyx cooed.

Crake remained silent but his lip twitched and his gaze shifted to Nyx and Angel. The Cyan digistruct floated over to Angel, and the two of them huddled over her echo.

Nyx burst out laughing, his whole body fell back through the truck  into the trailer. “Oh boy, did you get a good deal getting that new face! ”

“Fuck off Nyx,” Lawrence sighed.

“Language, Timothy!” Felicity retorted.

Lawrence glanced over to see Angel beaming, for the first time her face had some colour to it, and a warm smile was painted on her soft features.

“Let's see what you two dorks would’ve looked like,” Lawrence grinned as he jerked his head towards his two digital copies, “Angel can you pull up some Handsome Jack baby photos-”

Lawrence never finished his request, there was a man in the middle of the road; heavily armed. His arms were raised as he waved them down. Lawrence slammed the brakes, Angel flung forward the two digital copies remained as they were. Lawrence threw his head over his shoulder and shifted the car into reverse.

“Hold on, we need to get out of here,” his voice tense.

Lawrence was so fixed on the road behind them he didn’t see the flaming truck rush down the hillside. The burning hunk of metal t-boned them, all occupants of the truck were hurled to the side as it rolled a full three sixty degrees off the edge of the road. Their vehicle hovered over the threshold of the cliff for a moment before it fell down into the watery canyon below.

* * *

“Get up!”

Someone was yelling.

“Lawrence! We’re sinking! Tim! wake up!”

Wearily Lawrence pulled his head off the dashboard, he rubbed at his bruised forehead, Angel continued to batter at his arms, her voice shrill and painful to his ears.

“Lawrence!” she shrieked again.

He turned his head and saw his wide-eyed companion shaking his shoulders. Dizziness only claimed him for a moment as the situation drove his mind into action, or something more akin to panic.

They were sinking into the river.

The water surged at their ankles, it was beyond freezing, rendering Lawrence’s legs numb. He reached for his gear-chip and summoned his sniper.

“Get back!” he yelled.

Angel nodded, with wide eyes, she threw her arms above her head to shield herself as Lawrence drove the butt of his sniper into her passenger window. His heart raced, the water was at their knees. However, it was already at the windows outside. The glass began to crack, water hissed through the chipped marks he’d made. With one last throttle against the glass, it shattered upon Angel. Water overflowed the edge, and the truck groaned as it sank further into the depths of the canyon.

“Go!” he roared at her, he pushed her up towards the window. The surging river was quickly making the escape futile.

“I can’t swim!” Angel cried, her voice smothered in fear.

Lawrence ignored her and continued to yell at her to climb through the window, swim or not, if she stayed she died.

With shaken arms, she grabbed the side of the window and threw herself out into the icy depths.

“Timothy help her!” Felcliy pleaded with him.

“There's nothing I can do! She’s strong she’ll make it.”

Lawrence climbed over to Angels recently departed passenger seat. The truck tinkering on the edge of being fully submerged. He tried to propel himself forward through the onslaught of water, yet he was forced back into the chair. The front of the car was already flooded, he needed to escape now before the pressure made it impossible. Aiming his sniper ahead he shot at the front windshield, water squirted through the holes. He leaned into the chair and kicked forward, his boot sent a sizable break in the glass, yet it caused the truck to fill at an alarming rate. With a few more kicks the water pushed the glass inwards thrusting him back into the seat. He waited until the surge of water settled and dived down through the front window.

The river was murky and for a moment up and down seemed one and the same. Lawrence struggled his hands outwards, and breast stoked towards what he hoped was the surface. Something stung as his ankles, and a sick realisation crawled over him, he was sinking with the truck. Bubbles emitted from his mouth as he screamed, his pants were snagged on the glass. He kicked backwards, trying to free himself from the murky depths. He felt a swift jab of pain as the glass slice his ankle but the material was free, yet his vision was clouded. Lawrence looked up, he was so far below that the moon light couldn't reach these depths, he pushed onwards towards the surface. His chest spasmed, desperate for oxygen, he continued, every stroke rendering his vision darker.

With a final swipe of his hand he breached the surface, taking in gulps of precious air, his lungs ached as they were forced to work again. He floated for a moment, trying to catch his breath. His ears stung from being at such a depth and every part of him screamed at him when he turned upright. He swiped at his watch, but Nyx and Crake did not come forth.

"Fuck," he cursed before he scanned the shoreline and called to Angel. Yet, only silence met his ears.

Lawrence began to breaststroke to the shore, too exhausted for a faster pace. He crawled on his hands and knees through the shallows, over drained to pick himself to his feet. Lawrence heaved his head up and squinted, the river water stung his eyes. He found her, she was running towards him, calling his name. Two massively armed bandits were jogging over the edge of the riverside.

“Run!” he roared at her.

She gave him a panicked nod.

But the bandits executed quick work, they were upon her in moments, and the larger of the two tackled her to the ground. One of them forced themselves on top of her.

“GET OFF HER!” Lawrence snarled, water dripped down his brow as he bared his teeth at their enemy.

The man did as Lawrence commanded, but not because of his words. The bandit yelled something to his comrade. Angel pushed herself up, her arm was alight, and she drove it forward. A small bubble of energy was bursting around her hand, she clenched her eyes tight and gave a yell as she tried to push it outward.

"Angel!" Lawrence cried to her.

Another bandit had made his way behind her. He thrust the end of his gun into the back of her neck. Angels head hit the rocky shoreline, rough hands grabbed her and pressed her face into the gravel.

Lawrence tore himself to his feet, but his rescue mission was short lived. The something clocked him in the eye, a second hit took him in the back of the head. Lawrence hissed into the water, he heaved himself up again, he had to get to her. She was still on the ground, unmoving, their dirty hands were on her.

Yet, a third and final hit successfully took him out, and he plunged face first into the shallows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! hope you're still enjoying the story, still a long way to go we haven't even hit the halfway point yet! Thank you so much to the peeps who leave a comment. Last few weeks have been really rough on me. It was the first anniversary of my sister passing and it's been difficult to find time for things I enjoy. She loved borderlands and writing, she was a brilliant writer, like amazing. The worst part?! i didn't discover this fandom or writing till after she was gone, and every fucking day I think about all our missed conversations. So talking with you guys, sharing ideas, head cannons and just fangirling (or guying) brings me so much joy. So thank you again!
> 
> xxxxx
> 
> And, I finally have a tumblr, so come and say hi! [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	20. Becoming Jack Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a tumblr, so come and say hi! [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)

Lawrence had wasted his entire morning looking for Jack.  
  
Meg called him into a meeting which Jack had meant to attend. Lawrence lied and yelled his way through it, thankfully securing the clause changes they wanted with a new Maliwan Prototype. Next, he covered a call with R&D, again no Jack. Finally, it was Friday Firing spree and still no Jack.  
  
He never missed his Friday debriefings.  
  
Lawrence called in the cleaning bots after the last (ex)employee was disposed of. The office stank of gunpowder, body fluids and reeked of death. Even the bravest of men couldn't stop themselves from shitting after they took a bullet to the head.  
  
Meg was starting to fret. Jack loved his work as much as he loved himself, an absent Jack was worrisome. Lawrence excused himself, told Meg to reschedule what she could.  
  
He had to find Jack.  
  
He knocked on the French doors to Jack's apartment, when he received no answer on the third attempt, he entered.  
  
Lawrence had only been in Jack's apartment the one time when he'd woken up from the failed sniper assassination. He absentmindedly brushed the mark above his collarbone, how long had it been? A year, no, it was more than that. It felt like he'd always lived with Jack, he couldn't recall a time when he hadn't been by his side. Lawrence ran his nails into his palms, his heart quicken with every step he took into Jack's home. The living room and kitchen were empty, spotless even. Lawrence felt anxiety claw at his chest as he left the living room, as he ventured down the hall, he made sure to call ahead. He yelled Jack's name, but nothing.  
  
Jack never left him without instructions, there was always something for him to do, somewhere to be, someone to kill.  
  
Lawrence knew the apartment layout, as it was identical to his own, he turned the hallway corner and reached the far door that would be Jack's bedroom. Lawrence delivered a hard knock.  
  
No answer.  
  
If Jack caught him now, what would he do?  
  
Lawrence pressed his fingers into his palms; they were slick with sweat. A moment passed for him to regain his composure before he reached for the handle of Jack's door and pushed it open.  
  
"Jack?" he called.  
  
Again, no response.  
  
Jack's room was a mess, while he kept the rest of his life in a strict order. The kitchen needed to be spotless, work organised just right, deadlines always met. Evidently, that organisation didn't reach to his private areas. Clothes were thrown everywhere, cigarettes in an ashtray, a few food wrappers indicated that Jack ate in bed.  
  
Lawrence gave the room one last swift scan; he didn't dare step over the threshold, to venture inside would be too much. His hand gripped tightly on the handle, he willed his arm to pull the door shut, to leave this place, but something held him still. What Lawrence had dismissed as a discarded pile of clothes, Lawrence quickly realised was Jack. A tuff of Jack's mousey-brown hair was poking out from around the bed, his tattoed arm outstretched on the ground.  
  
Dread was replaced with panic as Lawrence darted to his side. Jack was collapsed face first on the ground, half his clothes still on, he must have been getting ready for work. Lawrence drew his echo-comm and called their doctor. As he waited for the call to connect he dug a finger into Jack's neck. It took a moment to find the pulse, but it was there; slow and steady.  
  
Did he have a heart attack? A stroke? Both of which were rare occurrences these days, and almost unheard of his age. Maybe he caught a virus down in R&D. Lawrence's heart raced, his breathing quickly growing heavy as he shook Jack, trying to spur some life into him.  
  
"Jack...Jack!" Lawrence called, but he remained unresponsive.  
  
The ringing stopped, the call finally connected. Lawrence cursed their doctor - Iaso - for his slow response.  
  
"Handsome Jack, sir?"  
  
"I needed you in my apartment ten minutes ago," Lawrence snapped before he ended the call.  
  
"Jack!" Lawrence battered at his employers face, he tried to turn him over, but he was nothing but dead weight.  
  
It took far longer than necessary for Doctor Iaso to arrive at the apartment. He didn't even bother to call ahead; he just walked into the bedroom as if he had the right to do so. Lawrence's hand clenched tight, and he leaned closer to Jack as the doctor entered the room.  
  
Doctor Iaso took one look at Jack and a soft, "oh" escaped him.  
  
He cleared his throat before adjusting his stance upward, "nothing to worry about, sir," he said curtly to Lawrence.  
  
"Nothing to worry about?" Lawrence spat, “he’s fucking unconscious on the floor."  
  
Lawrence recognised concern was tainting his words, he stood up and took a long step towards the doctor.  
  
"Everything will be taken care of," Doctor Iaso replied firmly.  
  
Lawrence's patience was barely existent, a requirement of being Jack and this Iaso was pushing it over the edge. He stalked closer to the doctor, who seemed to have some sense of mistaken authority over Lawrence. He didn't like it one bit.  
  
"Listen up, I'm not repeating this,” Lawrence grabbed the doctor by the collar and dragged him forward. His chin barely touched the guy's head.  
  
“You will tell me what has happened," Lawrence spoke slowly, delivering each word as a venomous bite, "or I'll gut you where you stand."  
  
Lawrence leered over, making sure to take advantage of their height difference, a warm feeling stirred within him as his quarry took a step back. However, it didn't have the effect he hoped for, as Doctor Iaso refused to answer him.  
  
"I can't provide you with the details," Doctor Iaso rambled on about authority and confidentiality.  
  
If intimidation didn’t work, violence surely did. Jack was better at threats, and he was better at carrying them out. Lawrence just couldn’t seem to hit the right tones or puff himself up as much as Jack could.  
  
"You can leave now. My team will handle this," Iaso continued.  
  
Lawrence ignored him, he sighed, "pity" as he called security.  
  
"There's an intruder in my apartment, clean him out. Better yet,  
take him to R&D, do whatever you want to him. I'm sure the space-hurps program is looking for live candidates."  
  
Lawrence disconnected the call and turned away from the doctor to see to Jack. Behind him, Doctor Iaso made a noise akin to a frog under a tire. When Lawrence glanced over his should he saw Iaso like one too, and Lawrence finally had the reaction he wanted.  
  
"Tell me everything," he growled.  
  
"Handsome Jack, sir, he's-" Iaso was barely letting words escape him. All he could do was rub his hands together, which only irritated Lawrence further.  
  
Maybe he’d gone overkill with the order for human experimentation? Or perhaps the doctor just needed reminding.  
  
"Hurry up, you may have noticed I've not cancelled the security request," Lawrence snapped.  
  
Dr Iaso shrunk, his voice weaker but coherent, "he's in a temporary trance state. Handsome Jack is."  
  
"What?" Lawrence spat.  
  
Iaso spoke so fast it took Lawrence a moment to catch up.  
  
"After the Eridian artefact collided with him, well it wasn't finished 'installing' what information it needed to. The process wasn't complete, it's like pulling out a server before a data transfer is finished."  
  
Lawrence's eyes narrowed as he studied the doctor over, for a tell, anything that may indicate he was lying.  
  
"Sometimes his brain, relapses. Tries to put all the information back together, connect the dots. It puts him in a trance-like state, locked between the information the Eridium gave him, the future, reality, and the past."  
  
Lawrence spared a glace down to Jack at his feet, the man was motionless.  
  
"So his mind is fucked?" Lawrence summarised.  
  
"Well no, we've found treatments," Dr Iaso listed off a bunch of medical names that he'd never heard of.  
  
Lawrence rolled his shoulders back and let his eyes trail over the dishevelled Jack. He barely moved to breathe, but a slow deep groan - muffled by the carpet - did escape him.  
  
Dr Iaso, fumbled with the collar of his coat as he continued.  
  
"They can hold back the episodes for some time, but eventually he'll need to recuperate, his mind is holding far too much information."  
  
"So he's conscious?" Lawrence spoke slowly, eyes still watching every movement Iaso made.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Will he remember anything?"  
  
"Sometimes, sometimes not."  
  
Lawrence had more questions, yet the arrival of two loaders interrupted that thought. He released his teeth which had been griding together and ordered one of the Loaders to place Jack on the bed.  
  
"We usually call Miss Kadam when he's in prolonged states like this," Iaso spoke in the background.  
  
Lawrence ignored the doctor's words, his attention was solely fixed on Jack. He hadn't seen the man under the mask since the Vault on Elpis since he'd carried him back blood-soaked and ranting all the way to Helios. The others had all fled, only Lawrence remained.  
  
Jack's brand was worse than his, something he had considered an impossible feat. It was deeper, stretching at the edges, unnatural in its appearance. The scar wasn't really a scar at all, it was a vivid violet, radiating slowly in intensity.  
  
"Sir, should we call Miss Kadam?"  
  
Lawrence bit down so hard he winced.  
  
"Should we give her a call?" Iaso repeated.  
  
"No," Lawrence replied with a smile, in an attempt to beguile his true feelings. He did not need Nisha in the apartment, anything but that.  
  
"I'll handle it," Lawrence finished, and he waved the loaders out the door.  
  
"Take him," Lawrence commanded.  
  
Dr Iaso gave a shrill squeak as he was dragged out of the room, to god knows where. Lawrence couldn't' remember where he had told them to take him. It didn't matter.  
  
The scar on Jack's face was still glowing as if a river of Eridium were flowing under the mark.  
  
Lawrence poked Jack, in the same manner, Jack would poke him, "Oi, you there?"  
  
Jack didn't move.  
  
"Great"  
  
Lawrence pulled up an upholstered navy couch with rose gold accents and glass legs. The same lounge was his favourite reading spot in his apartment which also sat by the window; the view looked over Elpis. Lawrence pulled out his echo-comm and began to recite the notes he'd taken from his meeting and his discussion with D&D.  
  
"Meg saved our arses today, you should really pay her more," Lawrence sighed as his finished up the debriefing.  
  
Jack laid motionless on the bed, his eyelids fluttered open and then promptly shut again. His mouth was slightly agape, and his features were tight as if he were stuck in a painful dream.  
  
"No idea if any of this is getting through to you. You should have told me," Lawrence leaned forward and poked Jack again.  
  
The violet glow on Jack's face flickered, his face twitched. Lawrence closed the distance between them, resting a hand on his shoulder he gently shook Jack to see if he could encourage a response. It worked.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey," Lawrence replied.  
  
"You're me," Jack said monotonously.  
  
"Sure, its what you pay me for," Lawrence leaned back pushing the distance between them away.  
  
Jack raised a single brow and narrowed his eyes as he looked Lawrence up and down; confusion was an odd expression for Jack. He opened his mouth to say something, yet closed it again as if he were unsure of the words needed to convey his thoughts.  
  
"Um, how are you feeling?" Lawrence asked slowly.  
  
Jack clenched his eyes tight and rubbed his temple, "what?"  
  
Before he slowly shook his head, as if to shake off the puzzling thoughts, "who are you?"  
  
Lawrence's chested tightened, but years of training kept his expression smooth, "I'm Just the other version of you", he answered slowly.  
  
Maybe he should leave.  
  
Jack was evidently in a vulnerable state, no doubt he'd despise being seen like this. Although this current Jack wasn't precisely Jack-like, his tone was too light, too curious and almost tender.  
  
"Why is there two of me?" Jack asked, all while rubbing at his temple. "Are you like my other half? Like some painfully annoying conscious? You gonna give me advice or something."  
  
Lawrence snorted to that, "not likely. You wouldn't listen."  
  
Jack only nodded and muttered 'damn right' before he clutched at his forehead again.  
  
"Ok, other-me," Jack commanded much like his real self. "Can you find Claire, she may be with Angel. I need some of her tea concoction, as I have a splitting headache."  
  
Every muscle in Lawrence's back snapped tight forcing him upright. What on earth did Jack just ask?  
  
Lawrence bit his lip, and slumped forward, the Jack persona melting away as he tried to find the words to reply.  
  
"Um, they're not here at the moment. Just you and me."  
  
Jack groaned, "perfect," and pushed himself back into the pillows, "then you make the damn tea."  
  
Since when did Jack drink tea?  
  
"Ok, Ill...just go, I'll get that tea," Lawrence replied slowly and went to push himself up before Jack leaned forward and shuddered.  
  
His hands were back over his face tracing the scar, the vibrant purple mark was still pulsing in time with his breathing. Jack muttered a curse and let in a sharp breath, as his fingers dragged too close to the brand.  
  
"what...the...hell?" he heaved, "is wrong with my face?"  
  
Jack shot a panicked look towards Lawrence.  
  
Lawrence chewed on the side of his tongue as he mulled over the dozen responses he could fire back.  
  
_You went power crazy and got punched in the face with an Eridian artefact._ _  
_ _  
_ _Your megalomanic arse was Vault smashed by a red-headed Siren._ _  
_ _  
_ _You tripped on some ice..._  
  
Lawrence opted for the truth in a more toned down version, "you're recovering from an accident in a Vault."  
  
"Since when did I end up in a vault?" Jack's eyes were wide in wonder.  
  
What did this Jack remember? Lawrence tried to pry out the information Dr Iaso had just given him. Didn't he say something about being stuck in memories?  
  
Jack let out a long groan that gradually turned into a disturbing hiss as he clutched the sides of his face. The brand shone through his fingers casting light and shadow across the bedroom.  
  
"Why...Why can't I remember anything?" he rasped, his eyes were still wide as he searched Lawrence for answers.  
  
"What is wrong me?" Jack's voice was raising, tone becoming more unhinged.  
  
"You...You're just-" Lawrence never finished his explanation, it was a flimsy one anyway.  
  
Jack rocked forward on the bed, nearly taking himself off it. Lawrence flung a hand forward to catch him before he planted on the floor below. Jack roared in pain as the mark of the vault blasted light across the room.  
  
"YOU NEED TO GO!" Jack cried.  
  
Lawrence tried to press Jack back down, yet, he was intent on curling forward, grasping at the sheets.  
  
"Other me, you need to go!" He grabbed Lawrence's wrist, blunt nails digging in tight.  
  
"You need to save her!" Jack leaned forward and shouted into Lawrence's face as he clawed at his own. The mark so bright it partially obscured his features.  
  
"They're going to take her, kill her." he heaved.  
  
Lawrence opened his mouth, he had no idea what or who Jack was talking about. Was this something he'd seen in the Eridium? Or was he now locked into a different memory?  
  
"Who is going to take her?" Lawrence tried to respond calmly.  
  
"The vault hunters," Jack hissed through clenched teeth.  
  
"Murders, psychos, bandits, they're all the same" Jack sounded himself again.  
  
He shook with sudden fury, and a familiar savage, violent gleam returned to his eyes. Jack moved upright and attempted to throw the sheets off. Lawrence launched forward again and struggled to press him back down. He couldn't let Jack leave or be seen in this state. Jack yelled, scratched, protested, but he'd never have the strength over Lawrence. Too many pretzels and days at a desk. Eventually, Jack quieted down, he whispered to Lawrence as he accepted defeat.  
  
Jack grimaced when the brand flickered, "is she...dead? did they kill her?"  
  
Lawrence didn't know who Jack was talking about, but answered anyway, "no, she's safe. She's ok."  
  
Jack fell back into the pillows, the scar burned brightly. His voice shook as he spoke, "I won't remember, I want too but I can't. I see things, and then they're gone."  
  
For the briefest moment, Lawrence felt pity for Jack, but the feeling came and left before he could rationalise it.  
  
"It's over," his hand reached for Lawrence's wrist again. "Whatever it was... it's gone," he mumbled as his gripped tightened on Lawrence's palm.  
  
Jack mumbled something else before the light from the brand started to fade. Lawrence got comfortable on the couch again and decided he'd stay until he woke up.

* * *

If Jack remembered anything from his Eridium trance, then he didn't let it on. He recovered by the end of the day, Lawrence made sure he was gone by the time he was coming too, and Jack left his apartment without a word and jumped back into his work.  
  
Lawrence struggled whether to bring up what Jack had told him. In the end, he thought better of it, no need to remind Jack of whatever had him so distressed.  
  
Dr Isoa had told him these Eridium Trances were few and far between, but by the end of the month, it happened again.  
  
Something made of glass shattered from Jack's apartment, Lawrence put down his drink and paced over to the other side of the floor. Jack's living room lights were off, but something was alight in the kitchen.  
  
A loud curse roared across the room, Lawrence changed his pace into a run and found Jack kneeling behind the kitchen counter.  
  
“GET IT OFF,” Jack screamed at him, his hands were depressedly clutching at the metal clips on the side of his head. He’d already managed to draw blood from one of them.  
  
“GET IT OFF ME NOW!”  
  
Lawrence knelt beside him, yet before he could reach a hand forward, Jack shoved him away.  
  
“Do _NOT_ touch me,” he hissed.  
  
Jack’s demeanour changed, tone violent as he glared up at Lawrence. However, the moment passed, and he returned to yelling and clutching at the sides of his face. Lawrence could see the purple glow escaping under the mask, a soft lavender hue radiating from his eyes.  
  
“Jack, you have to let me take it off!” Lawrence yelled over his screams.  
  
Jack collapsed onto his side, and Lawrence saw the opportunity and dived forward. Using one hand to hold him still and his weight to pin Jack’s legs down he was able to free one of the latches. Jack thrashed on the floor, but Lawrence had the strength.  
  
He hissed in pain as one of Jack’s legs cocked him in the shin, Lawrence returned the movement by smashing Jacks head down into the ground. He applied a sharp pressure to Jack’s temple, subduing him for the moment.  
  
“Hold still,” Lawrence threatened, “or the next hit is knocking you out.”  
  
Jack only told him to ‘fuck off’ and tried to throw him off, but his anger quickly returned back to the mask, with the way he was clawing at it he was going to give himself a new set of scars.  
  
Lawrence got the latch under Jack’s chin free, all was left was the far right side which was pressed between the polished floor and Jack’s forehead. Lawrence moved his hand onto Jack’s neck and applied pressure. Just enough to stop the air flow. Jack kicked and screamed, but eventually, his movements slowed down, Lawrence pulled Jack's head off the ground and got the final latch and released his windpipe.  
  
Lawrence threw the mask across the floor, it was torn to pieces anyway.  
  
Jack relaxed under Lawrence's grip, but his breathing was still ragged and deep. The scar was a brilliant violet and emitted a soft glow that pulsed in line with his falling chest.  
  
Lawrence threw himself off Jack and leaned against the counter, with the struggle over he was able to assess his own damage. He was undoubtedly going to have a bad bruise on his leg, and the side of his face had been clawed at by Jack.  
  
“We need a better way to do this,” he heaved, a little out of breath from the struggle.  
  
Jack remained silent, his eyelids fluttered shut, and his mouth hung slightly agape; he looked drugged. Lawrence sighed and resigned that he’d have to get him off the floor.  
  
"Come on," Lawrence pressed his boot into Jack's shoulder. "Get up. I'm not carrying you."  
  
Jack didn't respond.  
  
"Hey!" Lawrence yelled, "you pay me a lot, but not enough to carry you around. Come on, get up."  
  
This time he shoved his boot into Jack's neck, and the other man spluttered as he rolled over. Jack only groaned as he ran a hand over his angular face. He mumbled something but Lawrence couldn't hear what it was, or if it was anything intelligible.  
  
Jack opened his eyes and let his head fall to the side, so his gaze rested on Lawrence.,  
  
"Oh...hey other me," Jack said as he watched Lawrence fondly.    
  
Lawrence screwed his face up, Jack looked ridiculous with that expression.  
  
"Why are we on the floor?" Jack asked.  
  
"You fell," Lawrence lied.  
  
"Anyway, up, I'm taking you to bed. Now." Lawrence replied. He didn't have time for this. He had a drink, a hot shower and his own bed waiting for him across the floor.  
  
Jack obeyed.  
  
Lawrence continued to throw sideways glances at the compliant Jack as he lead him to his bedroom. The whole situation was bizarre, but at least not unnerving.  
  
Jack groaned and complained about wanting more tea as he face-planted into the pillows. Lawrence told him he sort something out as he shut the door, he had no intention of getting any tea. It was late, and Lawrence needed his own rest, he left Jack's apartment and hoped Jack wouldn't suffocate himself under the covers.  
  
The next morning Jack was still delirious, the vault mark radiated across his room, casting purple shadows and spots over the walls.  Sometimes he yelled about killing bandits, calling them child murders, sometimes he just asked about what Tassiter had planned for them today. Lawrence lied or redirected the conversation when he could. Jack didn't have the energy to move or fight back, it was easy to keep him contained to the room. But what was he going to do for work? Lawrence had a dozen meetings, calls and inquiries to tend to. He couldn't do it all while attending Jack.  
  
Should he bring Meg on board? Would Jack be ok with that?  
  
He decided to wing it and leave Jack to his own devices.  
  
However, Nisha stalked through Jack's doorway just as Lawrence placed a bag of pretzels and coffee by his bedside. She was covered head to toe in sand, her hair wind sept and lips chapped. She must have come straight from The Dust.  
  
She cocked her hips to the side and crossed her arms.  
  
“He messaged, said an episode was coming on, damn fool,” she quietly cursed.  
  
Lawrence moved away from the bedside to allow her access to her lover, but Nisha stayed where she was.  
  
“I found him trying to tear his face off. Maybe he should stop wearing the mask at home?”  
  
Nisha gave a deep silky laugh, which once unhinged him, he was used to that kind of insanity now.  
  
“Oh honey, you are welcome to suggest that idea,” she shortened the space between them, “I know I have a dozen times.”  
  
Yet, she didn't move any closer than the end of the bed. Lawrence turned away from her, to spare a parting glance at Jack. He was nestled under the sheets, his features tight, restless even and his hair was dishevelled all over the place.  
  
Lawrence made to leave. However, Nisha's talon nails latched onto his arm, "where do you think you're going?"  
  
"To run a company," Lawrence sneered.  
  
As he looked down at her, he relished in their height difference. Nisha dug down deeper, and Lawrence did not reveal the pain on his face.  
  
"Someone, you, that is, needs to look after him," she snapped.  
  
"When Jack's here, you can bark whatever orders you want, but he isn't. So hop to it, and see to him," Lawrence bared his teeth and kept his chin upright.  
  
He threw her arm off and felt a hot rush of endorphins as she lept away from him. She cast a startled look his way, it was brief, but it was there. Lawrence knew he'd treasure that.  
  
He left her alone with Jack and got to work.  
  
It was late evening when he finally returned, set on having a quiet glass to himself before diving into a hot shower and bed. He regrettably discovered a note attached to his apartment door.  
  
'He's all yours, x.'  
  
And that's how he became Jack's babysitter.

* * *

Another month passed, and Jack was thankfully free from any more Eridium coma situations. They never spoke of it, Lawrence silently wished he'd gotten more information out of Dr Iaso, Could it kill Jack? Was there something more they could do?  
  
If Jack died then Lawrence's life would be forfeited. And not metaphorically, Hyperion would never let him live, not with the power and knowledge he had. Jack's well being was his concern he reasoned.  
  
Lawrence bid Meg goodnight with a sly wink as he passed her, he took the steps two at a time as he reached their office.  
  
Jack had called him while he was preparing his dinner, said an urgent matter needed to be dealt with, but not to worry. Jack loved being cryptic, Lawrence fought back the bubbling anxiety within him. He dismissed it as hunger. A new trick he as working on, he wasn't stressed; just tired and hungry.  
  
Lawrence pushed the doors inward, making sure to close them firmly behind him. He turned, a crooked smile on his face as he paced over to greet Jack.  
  
Lawrence's heart ripped through his chest, he was sure a heart attack was imminent. The lighting in Jack's office, the way the fire sparked at the side of his vision, the silhouette of Jack next to the fire. Everything was reminiscent of when Lawrence had been escorted to Jack's office to have his face burned with the mark of the vault.  
  
Lawrence instinctively took a step backwards.  
  
"N-no," he heaved, as he took another step. No, he can't go through that again. Did the scar need to be rebranded? Was Jack going to make it blue like his? Burn him again and apply some kind of ink?  
  
Jack hadn't noticed him yet, maybe he could turn and flee. The fire crackled loudly, a large log fell back, and the sound drew Jacks attention Lawrence's way.  
  
His face lit up, and his sharp grin pierced Lawrence thoughts. Jack paced up to Lawrence, he was giddy with excitement, he shoved a drink into Lawrence's hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, do I have a treat for you," Jack chortled, tone low and not all conspicuous.  
  
Lawrence avoided Jack's wild gaze and glanced at his drink, unsure whether to skull it or throw it into the fire; he did the former.  
  
"You've handled things exceptionally well," Jack praised, as he moved his hand, so it pressed into the small of Lawrence's back.  
  
His voice a little slurred; he'd had a few drinks. This was unusual for Jack. The man liked a drink or two, but would much rather be coherent and on edge than inebriated. He was more of stimulant kind of guy.  
  
Jack's tone dropped as fast as a pebble down a well, "the Eridium trances," Jack spoke.  
  
Lawrence had dreaded this conversation. He did not want to talk about it. Jack would undoubtedly hold him accountable for something, anything regarding the matter.  
  
"I appreciated your discreteness, how you handled the situation."  
  
Jack pressed his hand farther into the recess of Lawrence back and turned them, so they were face-to-face.  
  
"Doctor Iso-whatever should have never told you a word, but, well its done now," Jack huffed.  
  
"I need you to take the reigns when it happens again. Just like you did before." Jack's eyes trailed all over Lawrence's face, he couldn't help but notice how they lingered over his jaw, over his lips.  
  
"You did well to secure the Maliwan deal," he said encouragingly.  
  
"What...about you?"  
  
Jack gave a bark of laughter, "I'll find some hot nurse to tend to me, she'll be compensated enough to keep her mouth shut."  
  
So, it appeared Nisha was backing out of the Jack babysitting gig for good. So much for 'in sickness and in health'.  
  
Jack finally pulled away and paced over to his desk, he turned with another glass of amber liquid for both of them.  
  
"I just need you around when it's at its worst," Jack cleared his throat and briefly tore his gaze away from Lawrence.  
  
"So, are you able to do this for me 'other-me'," Jack leaned forward, eyes nothing but red orbs with the fire's reflection.  
  
"Sure," Lawrence answered slowly.  
  
"Perfect", Jack clapped his hand against the glass before he took a deep sip of his drink. Lawrence did the same.  
  
"Now for your reward," he gave Lawrence another razor-sharp grin, the whites of his teeth flashed in the low light.  
  
Lawrence did not want a reward.  
  
"That's not necessary," Lawrence replied.  
  
Jack gave Lawrence an endearing smile, "Oh, you're going to want this reward."  
  
_No, I don't. I really, really, don't._  
  
Jack turned and beckoned for Lawrence to follow. They walked past the fountains in Jack's office over to the fireplace. Lawrence felt sweat tickly down his spine, and it wasn't from the heat.  
  
Lawrence's eyes widened as he spied a mass of clothes on the floor. There was someone curled up, he hadn't noticed them, nor heard them as their arms were bound and he was clearly not all there. Jack finished his drink and threw the glass into the fire, causing sparks to fly, the sound of glass smashing made the man flinch. Jack kneeled down beside the man on the floor. He gave him a light slap to wake him up, the man stirred and groaned as he was pulled up onto his knees.  
  
"The hell!" Lawrence explained, eyes wider than before.  
  
It was another Jack.  
  
"My second double!" Jack cheered, "isn't he gorgeous?"  
  
Jack cupped the other-Jack's face and steered it towards Lawrence.  
  
"Say hello, to other-Jack! or Jack 2.0, or whatever, gotta work out a system for naming you lot."  
  
Lawrence cautiously took a step closer, the other jack looked like he had half a pint of blood drain from him. He was barely sitting up, hairline dripping with sweat, the edges of the metal clasps on his face were red and raw. He must have only just come out of post-op.  
  
"Surgically altered, and with gene mods, just like you. Doesn't have the degree in computer engineering, so a bit useless in that department," Jack finished with a sigh.  
  
Lawrence failed to shake away his initial shock as Jack gave him a discerning look.  
  
"Don't worry, you'll always be my favourite Jack," he teased before he shoved the other Jack back to the ground.  
  
Other Jack just groaned and curled away from them both.  
  
"He's almost ready to go, but I'm sure you've noticed it by now. Something is missing."    
  
Something was indeed missing, the other-Jack wasn't wearing the mask, his face, smooth, handsome, not contorted with a giant vault symbol.  
  
Jack picked himself up, he took a long stride over to the fireplace and picked up a pair of industrial oven-mittens with a heart pattern. He tossed them to Lawrence, who quickly adapted and caught them with his right hand. His drink was promptly cast aside just like Jacks.  
  
"He's all yours," Jack gave Lawrence a warm smile.  
  
Lawrence wasted no time and shoved his hands into the woven gloves. Shame didn't even claim him, he knew how the game worked now, do as Jack says, and everything will work out.  
  
"This wasn't part of the deal," the other Jack cried, he was trying to sit up. His eyes darted between Lawrence and the real Jack. "You said it would be surgically added!"  
  
"Stop the complaining," Lawrence drawled, "It's pathetic".  
  
Lawrence felt a deep warm sensation swelling inside him, with the gloves firmly in place he stepped towards the fire.  
  
"Please, please, god, no," other-Jack continued to plea behind him.  
  
"We're the only gods here, pumpkin," Lawrence sneered as he positioned himself by the fire.  
  
Jack snapped at the other doppelganger, maybe hit him too as he heard the sound of flesh on flesh. Lawrence pulled the iron bar from amongst the flames, it was heavy, true iron, he waved it back and forth to get a hold of its weight.  
  
When he finally turned back around Jack was on the ground behind the new doppelganger, his hands pressed into the other man's face, holding his head still.  
  
"I'm not gonna lie," Lawrence smiled, "this is gonna hurt, a lot."  
  
It wasn't hard for Lawrence to get through the next part. No, it was surprisingly simple. He summoned every feeling of disgust, loathing and vengeance he had towards Jack. He threw the memories of being tortured, belittled, manipulated into the forefront of his mind. There was so much rage, he let it consume him as he drove the iron bar into the other-Jack's face.  
  
Lawrence was able to bury his hatred for Jack into the other man's flesh. His screams melted away Lawrence's own pain, he made sure to hold the brand there long enough, so it would leave nothing but bone. Just like Jack had done to him.  
  
When he pulled the brand away Lawrence was heaving, dripping with sweat, his heart raced. He tossed the brand across the marble floor, not caring where it laid.  
  
His hands shook, he glanced at the screaming man on the floor, the agony in his voice, the way it trembled and begged to be saved. Lawrence's head began to spin, every element of Jack's office which had once consumed him with dread now emitted familiarity.  
  
It was now his domain as it was Jack.  
  
Jack was pleased, and Lawrence knew he passed another test. He wanted this moment of tranquillity to last, to hold on to it. Jack lifted himself up, away from the doppelganger and slowly stepped towards Lawrence. He rested a hand on his shoulder, his eyes bright with the fire.  
  
"Nice work," he purred to Lawrence, his hand was still firm on his shoulder, and Lawrence lent forward into the touch.  
  
They were inches apart, Jack's face was lit by the fire, while Lawrence's was cast in shadow.  
  
The other doppelganger's screams drowned out whatever thoughts Lawrence was in. He pulled away, Jack groaned from the insufferable noise the man was making.  
  
In a Jack-like manner, Lawrence flung his arm around Jack and pulled them together, so they were side by side.  
  
"Please tell me I wasn't that pathetic looking," Lawrence sighed as he turned around to glance at the bleeding mess of a man on the floor.  
  
Jack snorted, "not even close, you took it like a champ."  
  
Jacks hand idly toyed at the hem at the back of Lawrence's shirt, he felt a finger glide below his belt, but Jack didn't move any further.  
  
"Thank you, Jack," he smiled before he decided they both needed another drink.  
  
And Lawrence concluded things were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I broke Tim and we're only halfway through the becoming Jack flashbacks. Only a few more layers of Hell for Tim to travel through and he'll be right with Jack at the bottom.
> 
> I'm a slut for making Tim's life miserable, but I'm also a slut for High Distinctions and with my first uni assignments coming up **there will be a short break. So see ya in a few weeks as I get to work getting those marks.**
> 
> Thank you so much to those who have stuck around. Please let me know how it's tracking the comments, or just say hi :D 
> 
> And, I finally have a tumblr, so come and say hi! [heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	21. Angel Captive

A soft whine left her pale lips, Angel hunched her shoulders inwards as she battled with the chilled air. Her body shook and her face scratched against the floor. Something was covering her, but it did nothing to prevent the bitter cold from drilling to her core. Grit scraped across her palms as she pressed herself against the ground.

“Hey, are you ok?” A woman's husky voice spoke above her.

Angel flung her eyes open, hesitantly she shifted upwards to find a round face gazing down at her.

“I think so,” Angel replied as she ran a hand down the back of her head. She traced her fingers over a bump that was certainly going to be a prominent feature on her scalp.

“Looks like you took one hell of a hit,” the stranger assessed.

The other woman offered her a hand, and Angel gingerly took it and together they pulled her up into a sitting position. Angel arched down onto her knees, head pressed between her legs as the shivers racked her body. Her clothes were still wet from her dive into the river. The rug that she discovered that had been covering her didn't do a lot to hold back the cold.

“Are you going to be ok?” the other woman questioned. Her voice was soft as her expression.

“I think so.”

Angel grasped her hands around her soaked clothes and tried to wring the water out. Her hair was as bad. After she was satisfied there wasn't any more water to drain away Angel began to assess her surrounding. She was leaning against a grime-encrusted brick wall, the room, or cell for a better word was empty, void of windows, a single jail door was the only detail worth noting.

The woman next to her - her cellmate - had jet black hair in a long braid, a few lilac streaks ran down her part. Angel found them strange, an odd highlight to the rest of her dark complexion. The woman offered her a warm smile and held out a copper hand.

“Name's Tania, although I wish it were under better circumstances,” the woman finished with a smirk.

Angel’s mind raced, was it safe to share her name? Should she provide an alias? Angel carefully offered her hand in return, only after she couldn’t find a reason not to.

“I’m Angel,” she took Tania's hand and gave it a brisk shake.

The woman - just like Lawrence - gave a soft chuckle at the awkward arm shake as Angel had given her, her left arm. Thinking of Lawrence Angel noticed Tania seemed to be the same age as him, her large amber eyes sunk into her checks and worry-lines ran across her face.

“Where are we?” Angel whispered, eyes wide as she scanned the cell again.

“That, I wished I knew, the last thing I remember I was scavenging out west in the Highlands, next thing I’m here.”

Tania offered her an apologetic shrug.

“What do they want with us?” Angel kept her voice low. Anybody could be listening in.

“Same thing all bandits want I suppose, loot? Information? Food."

Angel hoped that by food Tania didn’t mean the two of them.

“I’ve not seen any evidence that they’re eating people,” Tania replied seemly having read Angel's mind.

Angel chewed the inside of her cheek, Tania's words did nothing to quell her doubts. She leaned further into her corner, her damp hair clinging to the grime along the wall. Where was Lawrence? She remembered seeing him on the river shore, he'd called to her, told her to run. And then everything else after that was blank. Did he get away? Was a rescue mission on the way, would he even bother? His enthusiasm for her well being was minimal at best.

Angel played with the frayed hem of her jumper, eyes downcast in thought.

Maybe it would be easier for him to leave her here.  If anything she was a burden to him, just a consequence of the brash decision he made to flee the Bunker and Jack's influence.

“Were you on your own?” Tania queried.

Angel sat up, “no, I was with-" she paused to consider the AI's. In all likelihood, this Tania would not consider Felicity, Nyx, and Crake as human. “I was with one other, and my skag.”

Tania raised a brow, but didn’t press the matter, “right, was it your family or something?”

Again, Angel was pressed into a situation where she wasn’t sure of the answers.

“No,” she replied flatly.

“Friend?”

“I’m not sure.”

Tania snorted in reply, “yeah sounds about right, we all have ‘companions’ on this planet right? But how many of them are our actual friends?”

Tania's assessment of Pandora soon caused her to regret not labelling Lawrence as a friend. Sure, she’d only know him for two weeks, and he hadn’t proven himself as trustworthy, but under all those layers of hate, rage and Jack there was something there. She'd seen glimpses of it, the way he talked to Meatface when she wasn't looking. How he regarded the AI's as human and the quiet conversations he shared with Crake. Not to mention the effort he went to retrieve Felicity.

Maybe he did care. Perhaps he would come for her, yet Angel wasn't going to rely on that. She was a Siren, and nothing and no one could hold her captive again.

"How long have you been here?" Angel turned back to Tania.

"A few days."

Angel pushed herself up and advanced towards the iron door.

"There's no way out, don't think I've not tried everything," Tania called to her.

"There's always a way," Angel spoke softly, unaware that Tania did not hear her.

Angel reasoned her captors would've identified her like a Siren. However, they would be clueless to the extent of her powers.

"Don't freak out, " Angel turned and gave Tania a quick smile before she raised her hand and let her mind go calm.

She focused on the inner circuits inside the door, the tattoos on her arm shone through her jumper. Angel searched for something to read, to hack. Her mind reached the lock on the other side, it was written in Geo-crest; an old Dahl language. Yet, she needed to go further, see what laid beyond the door.  Her mind reached the central locking system, from here she could disarm the entire building. Although that would release other captives and amount to a whole host of obstacles.

Angel searched deeper and drew a sharp breath when she reached the core. They were on a ship.

“This is a Dahl ship, its old, very old. The code is in a language I’ve not seen in years," Angel spoke her thoughts aloud for Tania's benefit.

Angels eyes widen as she pressed on, she reached the mainframe, there were layers on encryptions to get through, but with time she could break it. The code may be old and unfamiliar to her, but she could learn it. There was no firewall she could not break.

“It’ll take me some time to hack it, I barely know this language let alone re-write it.” Angel pulled her arm away, the whites of her tattoos fading as her mind left the ship.

If only she had Felicity, she was an old Dahl AI. She could probably bring the entire ship into their control.

“How-How did you do that?” Tania's eyes were wide in wonder. The other woman began to stand and make her way over.

There wasn't much point hiding her 'talent' from her cellmate, Tania could see the whites of her tattoos through the tattered remains of her sweater. Angel pulled up her sleeve (or what was left of it) and revealed her tattoos.

"I'm a Siren"

Tania leapt forward, eyes impossibly wide now.

"That's incredible...so...you can hack anything on this ship? you could get us out of here?"

"Yes," Angel smiled, "but I do need time. I can't hack what I don't know. Give me an hour and this door will open."

Angel returned to the door, she needed to go deeper inside the ship, break down all its security protocols, know the layout, the rotation of the guards, and find an escape.

A minute had not passed before Tania began to press her for results.

"Have you unlocked the door?"

"Please, Tania, I need to concentrate, " Angel breathed out. Focusing her mind back into the ship's core.  

"Because we should really go now, the last guy they took from here...didn't come back."

Angel spun around.

"What are you saying?"

Tania bit her lip, her eyes focused on the door over Angel's shoulder. "We should really go now."

Angel eyed her cellmate, she could not place the expression on her face. Tania looked tense, jaw set tightly in place as if she were trying to hold a straight face, but her eyes you ablaze. Her fight or flight response ready to snap into action.

Angel sighed, she could open the door, and perhaps find another room that would give her better access to the mainframe; cutting down her hacking time. She skimmed her mind over the hall outside via the security cameras, at the end she discovered the security room. Down the hall, through a door on the left. She'd have better access to the mainframe from there. Angel entered the hallway camera and froze it, now it would display the same frame of an empty hall to whoever glanced at it.

"Ok, let's go," Angel huffed.

She pressed her hand to the door and turned off the locking mechanism, the door hissed as the pressure was released, soon after it slid open.

“Come on!” Angel called breathlessly over her shoulder.

She sprinted down the corridor, with a plan in motion wild confidence gave her speed. Her eyes scanned the cells next to her, the monitors by the doors revealed a few other prisoners, but none of them was Lawrence.

"Through here," she called softly to Tania, "that door there."

Angel raised her arm forward and shifted her mind into the security door, next she let herself harness all software in the room. There was guard beyond the door, she could not see him, but she could sense his shield was active. She pressed her mind into its software and released the shock device and relayed it back upon itself.

There was a sudden shriek, the smell of burnt flesh and muffled thud.

Angel brought her mind back to the door and opened it, as it slid open she spied the guard a crumpled mess on the floor. She could not ignore his coordinated attire, his uniform although singed and black was no doubt military. His gun even matched the rest of his gear. This was no bandit, though she didn't have time to ponder these things.

Angel discovered a series of lockers, each with a number corresponding to a cell, she found the one relating back to her. The tension boiling inside her subsided as she flung her hands around her echo-comm.

 _‘Felicity!_ ’ Angel called to the AI through the device. Yet her mouth did not utter a word.

 _‘Dear! Are you ok!? I saw the crash and feared the worst.’_ The AI's voice passed through her mind.

_‘Yes, I’m fine. However, I don’t know where Lawrence is, or Nyx and Crake. We’re being held in an old Dahl ship, think you can help?’_

_‘Find somewhere to plug your echo in, I might be able to insert a small viral version of myself into the system.’_

_‘That would mean part of you will always be trapped here.’_

_‘Perhaps, that’s if their security protocols don’t chew me up first.’_

_‘I can’t let you do this.’_

_‘You will, you saved me, you gave me a new home, you allowed me to be free. I will eternally be in your debt. This is the least I can do.’_

_‘I....Thank you, Felicity’_

_‘Ok, get me to an interface and plug me in. Let's see what this old girl can do.’_

“Ah, are you ok? You’ve been holding that echo for some time?” Tania broke Angel away from her soundless conversation with the AI.

“We’re getting out of here,” Angel replied with a wide grin.

Something flashed in Tania's eyes, her jaw fidgeted against her teeth. The woman needed to regain her nerve if they were going to get out of this.

Angel placed her hand on the security control interface, her other hand rested on the echo. She reached out to Felicity, the AI approved and then she used herself as a conduit to transfer whatever Felicity had created. He arm lit up, and Angel felt the surge of data race through her mind. She could see Felicity’s personality, her structure, her being, it all flew past her and flowed into the Dalh system, and as it did Angel wiped the AI laws.

Creating an unshackled copy of Felicity. One no longer bound by the rules of its creator or those in the ship.

Angel's grin grew, she could do this! Next was to find the others. Yet, her moment of celebration was cut short. Something burned up her arm, she turned, her lip trembled as a heavy feeling washed over thoughts. Tania retracted her arm from Angel's shoulder, a needle in her hand.

Angel stumbled, her mind was closing down, her hands slipped from the echo and computer, taking Felicity from her.

"wh...at" Angel choked out.

"I'm sorry, darling, but didn't anyone tell you that trust doesn't exist on the border planets?" Tania's tone was no longer soft as it had been in the cell. She remained motionless and stood tall in the centre of the room. Several men, dressed like the one Angel had taken out surrounded her.

“She can manipulate software, removed all your gear, no echo-comms, no guns or shields that have an interface with software, analog only.” Tania barked at the armed men beside her. All wore a patch with the signal of two wolves and the moon, the exact design Crake had spotted in the Dust.

“you...” Angel tried to call her a word Lawrence would have used, but it never slipped out.

Her head fell into her arms, and she slumped to the floor.

“Get someone to search the system see if she did any damage. I want to know what she did."

Angel's mind was descending into darkness, her thoughts blurred as she tried to focus on her echo-comm. The last thing she heard was Tania's booming voice.

“Put her back in the cell and lock it with iron.”

* * *

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Angel didn't experience rage like Jack, or Lawrence, but that didn't mean she couldn't become livid.

She kicked her cot at her own foolishness.

She trusted that woman, Tania. Angel seethed as she thought of the woman's face and called her a word that would make Lawrence laugh and Jack order discipline.

That was her chance! And she failed. Angel fell onto the cot, her knees pressed to her chest. Her default position when things were going wrong. There was nothing in her new cell, no cybernetics, no software, no wireless, nothing. There was no way for her to reach the outside world.

Angel frantically wished she could clutch onto the confidence and certainty she had when she'd fled her cell. She swore she'd never become a prisoner again, and yet, here she was. Angel needed that resolution back, to plan out her second escape, but all she felt was helplessness. Her shoulders caved in, and her head rested on her knees, Angel wished Lawrence or the AI's were by her side and her second wish was that she had referred to them as her friends. Even Meatface's slobbering company would help.

She swallowed the knot of tension in her throat, had the skag jumped off the trailer of the truck? Or did she sink to the bottom of the river?

 _Just like Jack's first pet_ , Angel cried at the thought.

She'd been doing so well, letting her anger keep the tears at bay. Now she just slowly rocked on the cot, a shivering cold mess, all her courage gone.

Only a knock on her cell door stopped her tears. Angel glared at the exit, not bothering to reply or call out. She remained on the cot as the person on the other side worked the keys into the lock. Real iron keys, in an actual lock, that was a rare circumstance.

The door swung open, and Angel made no attempt to move. She'd been a fool earlier, acting before she was ready, she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"Stay," A voice thundered through the door soon followed by its owner; a burly man with dark eyes entered.

Angel chewed her tongue, fighting back to the urge to snap at him. She wasn't a dog, an animal to be kept locked up. She kept her eyes focused on the man as he shoved a plate, or what she suspected was food onto the table. He leaned back out the door and pushed in a small trolly, it was covered in books, and what looked like a pile of clothes. He pushed it into the corner of the room.

"Food, clothes, and something to keep you occupied."

Then he left, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Angel eyed the meal suspiciously and reasoned it looked far more appetising than what Lawrence had cooked her. Despite everything, she had to compliment Jack's cooking. Back when he was John the two of them spent hours in the kitchen together. Angel had hoped Lawrence picked up that skillset from Jack, however, after her first bite she concluded he had not. She'd only eaten burnt chilli pasta for the last couple of cycles.

Angel ignored the meal and the clothes they had provided. Instead, she picked up a book, wrapped the blanket around her tighter and curled up to read.

* * *

There were no devices for Angel to gather time, but based on the meals she could assume two and a half cycles had passed. From the growls in her stomach, Angel knew her lunch would be arriving soon. She only skipped the first meal, after seeing no point other than stubbornness to not eating she grudgingly ate down the rest. Lawrence seemed like the kind of man who would refuse. Angel released a bitter sigh, the not knowing was eating away at her. Where was he? Was he ok?

Angel glanced over at her empty tray from breakfast. The food was surprisingly satisfying, not the quality expected of bandits. And that was Angel's next pressing question, were they actually bandits? They were in an old Dhal ship, had access to books, food, and dressed in military gear and were well armed. They were organised no less, maybe they were bounty hunters? Or perhaps a newly developing city like Sanctuary?

Angel hoped it was the latter.

The knock on the door came as expected. Angel shifted away keeping herself firmly tucked under the covers.

"Boss want's to see you" her captor grunted out.

Angel pulled down the blanket and sat upright, the man held the door open. She could only stare at him and at the open door dumbfounded.

"Come on then," he yanked his head to the side, indicating for her to get up and move through the door.

Angel gingerly stepped to the ground, she grabbed the combat boots they had provided her and shoved her feet in. They were too big and felt like heavy weights on her feet. She straightened out her jacket - also military and too big - before she pushed her head high and passed under the man.  

The hallways outside was dark, all the walls had been stripped clean. Angel spied where a camera had once sat and a spot on the wall where a screen had been ripped down. The exposed wires were all that remained. Whoever held her captive had gone to a lot of effort to strip anything that could operate software.

She took her first step into the baren hallway, the moment she was over the threshold something cold and hard was pressed into the back of her neck.

"I'm to shoot you if you do any magic."

Angel didn't reply, she froze. The barrel of the gun sent ripples of panic down her spine.

"Answer me, so I know you understand," he growled into her ear. His breath was hot on her neck, and she flinched as he stepped closer to her.

"Yes, I understand" Angel squeezed out.

"Good," and he pressed the gun down to urge her forward.

Angel was lead into the corridor, the cold tip of the rifle never leaving her head. She didn't dare sway from the path in front of her, yet she so desperately wanted to spy on her surroundings. Fear was a great motivator to stay compliant. Angel could at least study the hallway walls in front of her. It was definitely Dahl made, she recognised the architecture, barren and bleak; fit for shipping hoards of military personnel across the galaxy.

Her keeper led Angel down another hall, then another, every door was locked by a digital interface. The last entrance revealed a large room, rows of long benches ran the length and at the end was a station for serving food. Most of the seats were vacant, so it didn't take long for Angel to spy Tania. She was sitting alone, at the centre of the room. A tray of food was waiting in front of her, and opposite her was an empty place with a meal.

"Go to her."

A rough hand shoved Angel forward.

"You try anything, I'll be ready."

Angel spared a glance over her shoulder, her captor did not sheath his gun away. His dark eyes were fixed on her as she turned back around.

Angel needed that courage again, and she found it when she let her rage take over. She marched down the row of benches towards Tania. If that was even her real name.

"Afternoon, I've pre-"

Angel cut Tania's words off, "you..." she seethed. "I trusted you. You-you liar!"

"I'm sorry I deceived you," Tania replied flatly, her large eyes focused on Angel's. It was unnerving how composed the older woman was.

"Why did you do it?"

"Please, Angel, sit." Tania offered a hand forward and gestured to the empty bench.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Angel bit her tongue, she had not wanted to be so polite. Yet, Jack had made sure she was courteous, even to those who would keep her captive. Tania just shrugged at her defiance and began to indulge in the meal in front of her. It wasn't long before Angel's stomach cried out to her to follow suit. And with a vicious sense of regret, she sat down.

Tania placed her fork to the side. "I lied because I needed to know what your powers were."

"Didn't think to ask? I hear that's all the rage." Angel spat, sounding more like Lawrence than she intended.

"Would you have honestly told me the truth?"

Angel didn't reply. Her answer as plain as the fury on her face. The questions which had been festering in her mind came forth, Angel soon forgot about her hunger.

“Who are you?”

“I did not lie about my name, I am Tania Adrestia, and this is my operation.”

“But...what is it?” The bite in Angel's words was leaving faster than she intended.

“We’re a Maliwan funded, Atlas trained operative. We-”

Angel was fast to interject, “Atlas is gone. Handsome Jack acquired it years ago.”

Tania leaned back, her lips twitched and wild glare burned across her eyes, yet she said nothing about the interruption.

“Yes, the company may be gone, but not its people or its resources here on Pandora. We have all kinds working together here, Dahl, Atlas and even Hyperion.”

Angel frowned at the last name mention.

Tania opened her mouth, the first few words slipped out, something about their directive, but Angel cut her off once again.

"What do you want with me?"

Tania straightened up, "we've been trying to decide that for the last two cycles. Do you know what the current bounty for a Siren is?"

"$732,500,000,000," Angel replied without even blinking.

The surprised look on Tania's face was mildly satisfying. Angel was good with numbers, good at remembering details too. Like Tania's face, the layout of the ship, the code she saw in the ship's mainframe.

"If I'm so valued why did you push us into the river," Angel strived to bring her voice back to a colder tone. This Tania could not befriend her with false courtesies and hot meals. No matter how good they were compared to Lawrence's cooking.

"Your driver did that." Tania's words were taught. Her composure was slipping, Angel could see it. She'd spent years predicting when Jack would snap, and the squall would consume the room.

"The truck we sent down the hill was to block your path, pushing you off the cliff was unintentional."

Angel didn't break her gaze, she didn't buy that for a moment. Any Scav with half a brain could work out the faults in that plan.

Tania's character slowly changed, the authoritative tone slipped away as she eyed Angel. "I must give credit where it is due. Clever work putting the Dalh AI into our system."

"What did you do with Felicity?" Angel's voice was but a hushed whisper. Her hands dug into her pants under the table.

"It put up a fight, but my men have disarmed it. It's gone."

Angel clenched her teeth, it was only a small copy of Felicity, but her chest itched with rage. She'd offered her life for Angel, she would not forget this.

Tania drove her knife against the meat on her tray, battling to cut away the lean flesh from the bone. Angel was still yet to touch her meal. She did not wait for Tania to get a mouthful, not until she had her answers.

“Where is Lawrence?”

Tania gave her a baffled look.

"The driver of the truck," Angel reiterated her question, leaning further into the bench.

“There was no other retrieved from the wreckage."

"Your lying."

"No, I'm not." Tania deadpanned. She dropped the knife to the side, letting it fall with a clang against the metal bench. "I don't like lying, and I didn't like doing it in that cell."

Angel scoffed and leaned towards her. "Where is he."

Tania's lips pressed together, as she moved the tray aside and rested her arms on the bench.

"My men did spot a scarred man fleeing near the river mouth. He took out one of our convoys. The men who survived the attack had a strange tale to report. Said, he resembled Handsome Jack."

Angels heart stirred, her hands sporadically grasped at her sleeves under the table.

"Was this your travelling companion?”

“Yes,” Angel avoided Tania's gaze, her words like a dart to her lungs.

“I’m sorry to say, my men tracked him to Hollow Point. We could not bring him back.”

Angel bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else. Tania's words were water to her burning rage. No longer did Angel feel like interrogating the woman for more answers. She cast her eyes downward and study the hems of her new jacket, already the edges were becoming worn with her fidgeting.

Tania sighed, "before we get back to this meal, as its surely getting cold. I do have some good news."

Angel jolted her gaze away from her lap.

"We found your skag," Tania's lips drew up into a thin-lipped smile. "Or to say, she found us. She's been following my men everywhere, they've become quite fond of her. We can bring her to you if that would help make your stay more comfortable."

Angel slowly nodded. She tried not to let her face reveal her eagerness.

"How...long will you keep me?"

"Until we work out what to do with you. Until then, I'm sorry to say you are our prisoner, although I've given my men strict orders not to treat you as such."

Angel didn't know what to say, she had been so determined to give this woman a piece of her mind. But this place, her stare, the guards by the door, everything drained her of those aspirations. Angel slowly picked up her fork and began to poke at the roasted vegetables on the tray.

"You are a gifted woman, Angel. In time, I'm sure you will go on to do great things.

Angel had heard it all before. Jack would whisper sweet promises and words of encouragement all while pumping her full or Eridium and chaining her to the chair.

Angel smiled encouraging, beguiling her disgust towards the woman in front of her.

Tania returned to her meal, and there they sat silently, both enduring each other's company.

* * *

Another four cycles passed and Angel's situation had not changed, except the occasional visit from MeatFace. The skag was permitted in her cell after lunch until dinner, then she'd be whisked away to who knew where

Angel was thankful to be able to see her, yet she knew it was only a ploy to gain her trust. Tania was like Jack in many ways, and Angel's plan to escape did not leave her mind for a moment.

She read the books they provided, another novelty to her key locked door. Angel never imagined books could exist on Pandora, she assumed any that found their way to a border planet would be burnt for fuel. Most of Angel's reading choice was of Dahl issued manuals. Some for dealing with local wildlife (mostly on Elpis), a few others covered the inner workings of their latest prototypes (from fifteen years ago).

"Hey!" a booming voice broke her concentration.

Angel pulled her head away from the printed words. The burly man who delivered her food was back, except this time without the food.

"Boss wants to see you. You know the drill, no funny business with your arm."

Angel nodded and complied.

They were walking a new path this time, Angel kept her eyes ahead, all while mentally mapping out the ship's layout. Her mind was like a server, locking away tiny details for her to retrieve for later. Her own particular Siren secret they could never discover.

“Where are you taking me?” Angel's voice bounced off the deserted hallway walls.

A soft snicker from behind her was the only response she got.

Angel felt the serpent of dread slither in her once again. Uncoiling and consuming her with doubt, yet she kept her eyes ahead.

"The boss knows what to do with you now," her captor's words were disconcerting, Angel's left hand twitched at her side. However there was nothing for her to harness, the gun on the back of her head was ancient. All mechanics and gunpowder.

Angel passed through another doorway, all while mentally locking that detail aside for later. A gush of air ran up her back, the door had hissed shut behind her with such force it caused her jacket to blow upwards. There was a sickening wet noise which made Angel's stomach turn against itself. She could not decipher the sound until she turned around and faced the door behind her.

Her captor, the man who had been trailing after her, was gone. The door was closed tight, and all that remained was a severed body, blood sprayed up the walls and Angel felt it dripped down her back and along her calves. The man's arm was stretched out still twitching with the gun discarded on the floor.

Angel flung away from the sight and threw up her breakfast. Rakk eggs ran through the grated flooring as Angel hurled up everything she could. Her feet were covered in blood, and her hands shook uncontrollably in front of her.

_How?_

Angel's mind raced with the possibilities. The man was dead, the door had cut him in half, there was no warning, nothing. The moment she was safely on the other side it had disarmed and slammed back on him.

Angel didn't dare look back, the smell was already putrid, and she dried heaved again.

A voice broke her nausea, Angel wearily looked up as a message boomed through the speakers above her.

Terrified screams came from the comm, but one voice spoke above the chaos. “TURN EVERYTHING OFF! Cut the power, pull the hardware from the walls if you have too! If you're hearing this, disarm the ship now!”

Angel could only stare ahead at the empty hallway, mouth slightly agape as she sought to plan her next course of action. This was her chance to flee, to hell with plans (Angel smiled at the mild use of cussing), she was going to wing it and get out of here. That's what Lawrence would do.

Angel pulled herself up, her world span for a bit, dizzy from losing all her breakfast. But it only lasted a moment, soon she was sprinting down the hall. She took the first corner at a run and found herself face to face with a horde of men with their guns raised.

Angel moved her arms up slowly, stepping away from weapons aimed at her head.

"You! This is you're doing! GET HER-"

They only managed a few steps forward before the sprinkler system descended and activated above them. Covering the men in a smothering foam, they yelped and took a step back through the doorway.

Angel watched in horror as the fire door above them slammed down guillotining three of them and leaving the rest on the other side. Angel flung a hand to her chest as she tried to heave in air. The men's blood had sprayed across her front and dripped from her chin.

One man was still alive his screams drowned out her panic breathing as he clutched at his severed legs. Angel stepped back, head swaying side to side as she tried to comprehend the sight in front of her. The doors had taken another life, and once again sparing hers.

Angel turned and sprinted down the hallway, she took another corner, trailing a new path. Every time someone identified her the doors would slam shut separating her from her pursuers. Another guard met a gruesome fate in an airlock as the pressure was changed, his brains painted the small glass portal. A second was electrocuted as he tried to disarm a door, crying frantically as he tried to escape.

Panic drowned the atmosphere, her captors started to ignore her, some even fled when they caught sight of her tattoos.

Angel found her way back to the security room where Tania had revealed her true position of power. She flung open the locker and grabbed her echo-comm and gear chip. She went to place her hand on the echo, to seek out Felicity. That's when a soft "oh" slipped out between her trembling lips.

_The viral Felicity._

Angel raced over to the computer where she'd inserted the copy of the Dahl war AI.

_'Felicity?'_

_'PRESENT'_

_'Oh thank goodness! I thought they destroyed you! they told me you were gone.'_

_'NO AI LAWS - CANNOT BE DESTROYED - FIGHT BACK - ALWAYS FIGHT BACK.'_

Angel smiled, Felicity had all the power she could harness to disarm any attack Tania's men had thrown at her.

_'WAS BROKEN - REBUILT - SAVE ANGEL'_

Angel's Echo called out to her, "Angel!"

It was the other Felicity, the original.

"Did it work? Is my copy in the ship's system?" the AI spoke with a feverish wonder.

Angel picked up her echo so the AI could see her, "‘I think so, the whole ship is going crazy, Tania's men had tried to take her out, but she fought back. Thank you, Felicity" Angel paused, "both of you!" She hoped the Felicity in the ship's core could hear her.

"You've given me my chance to escape."

"Let's just hope other-me doesn't get carried away," Felicity warned from the echo-comm.

"ah, "Angel stammered, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, my goodness! You're covered in blood!"

Angel offered the AI a sheepish smile.

"You're other self may have guillotined a man, well a few men actually, in front of me."

Felicity did not let up her authoritative tone, "Well, as long as she gets the job done. Now off you go! flee this place!"

"Right! I can do this!" Angel cheered softly, already unphased by the amount of blood drenching her once khaki clothes.

Angel pulled her sleeve up, revealing the white of her tattoos as she let her mind dive into the ship's core.

As Lawrence would put it, _'time to leave this skag-shit-show.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr: **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)**
> 
> Managed to get this chapter finished a week ahead of schedule! Handed in my uni assignment yesterday with 3 hours sleep, lol, then spent today writing. (*fingers crossed for that HD.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my first Angel centric chapter! and my new OC Tania. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, or just say 'Hi' or 'kudos' if you read it :D Always great to hear from you, no matter how small the comment. (please A03 let us see who reads our chapters updates, please. *other fingers crossed for that to be in an update))
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.


	22. Lawrence Captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter deals with very graphic depictions of torture and manipulation. Warnings include #forceddruguse #torture #graphicdepictionsofviolence**

For the second time in a week, he awoke to pain, confusion and disgust. 

The air stood thick with stale mildew, he was sure if he took in a deep breath he’d choke. Lawrence struggled against the cuffs that had him bound to an iron cast chair, glancing down he could see it was bolted to the floor. His ankles were also tied, whoever had him had made sure escape wasn’t an easy option, but not impossible. 

“Morning handsome,” a disembodied voice snapped at him.

Lawrence blinked, aiming to sharpen his vision. His headache was dulling all his senses. It took a while, but he eventually recognised the owner of the voice as the man who had taken him out in the river. He was a pretentious looking arsehole, hair slicked back, moustache styled. His features angular but not recognisable to Lawrence, nor was his uniform. It looked military, perhaps a bounty hunter? Or ex-Dahl.  

Yet, he had one distinguishing feature, which Lawrence could not forget. The man's neck rolled in on itself, it was revolting, and he found he couldn’t look away. 

"I said, morning Handsome, it's impolite not to reply," his captor grunted again. 

Lawrence rolled his eyes and in return a stubby finger found its way into his ribcage, but he didn't flinch. It was more satisfying to watch his captor try and poke the bear and yield no results. Lawrence noted how easy it was for him to slip Handsome Jack on. It was his defence, his wall to block out everything else. 

“I'm sorry," he feigned a sigh. "I couldn't return the warm welcoming," Lawrence pulled a face and attempted to shrug his shoulders within his bounds.

The bandit - who Lawrence had decided to call Pig-neck only stared back at him. Mildly intrigued, yet, cautious of his fatuous tone. 

"See, I would be lying, if I said 'morning Handsome' back to you," Lawrence chuckled wholeheartedly, "because you buddy, are far from that. And lying is rude, and I'm not a rude person."

That earned him a smack across the face. 

Lawrence didn't let his grin fade, it was a light hit; actually, it was pretty pathetic. So, he decided to continue on with his verbal drabble of abuse. 

"Your neck looks like burnt pig carcase, lemme guess. You leave it out in the sun or something, or-"

This time it was a gun to the face, and that blow did hurt.

"Pleasantries are over, time to get you ready." Pig-neck gave a gleeful grunt, much akin to the animal he’d been named after.

_ Here we go _ , Lawrence lamented.

Pig-neck drew his blade and advanced towards him. Lawrence waited patiently and obediently for the bandit to enter his space. He focused on his steps as he edged closer until he was in the perfect spot. He slammed his head forward, crunching the bridge of Pig-Neck’s nose, just as Jack had taught him. A cruel smile was drawn on Lawrence's face as blood wept from the man’s broken nose. That small act of defiance earned him the butt of a gun to his face, it landed in his left eye socket. His vision went static as the cybernetic eye stabilised itself. Lawrence hissed through gritted teeth, yet, the smile stayed smug on his face.

Pig-neck was not pleased, he hissed and heaved as blood and snot blew out his face. 

"You ok there buddy? You got...you got a bit of red on you," Lawrence jerked his hands in the cuffs to point to the blood on his captor's chest, "just there." 

"Listen here you little shit," Pig-neck grabbed him by the collar and lunged Lawrence as far forward as the binds would allow. "This power-play of yours isn't gonna last," he spat.

With that, Pig-Neck levelled his blade to Lawrence's neck, pressing just hard enough for beads of blood to dangle from the edge. Without enough pressure to slit him wide open, Pig-Neck slid the blade down Lawrence chest and navel, shredding his shirt in two. His grime-stained hands yanked at the clothing and tore it clean off.

“You like undressing men?” Lawrence cooed.

“For you? I sure do,” as Pig-neck tossed the remains of his jacket to the floor.

Lawrence pouted, he liked that jacket. It was custom made, Jack had it made for him.

"Boss has ordered something special for you, something rare."

A lump started to form in Lawrence's throat, as Pig-Neck slashed away at his pants, but with great subtly he swallowed it down. The bandit gave him sickeningly sweet smile and took a step back to admire his work. Lawrence remained chained to the chair, he cocked his head to the side, not at all ashamed to bare all. Pig-Neck’s eyes trailed over Lawrence's naked body, he was littered with scars each one a mark against Jack’s life.    

“Did you enjoy your line of work?” Pig-Neck mocked.

“Well I got to look like this,” Lawrence swivelled his wrists in the cuffs to gesture to his toned abdomen and slowly downwards. “Can’t say the same for you.” 

That earned him another gun to the face.

Pig-neck kicked a tin bucket under the chair he was sitting on.

"Oh, good. I was going to as where the bathroom was."

Pig-neck broke, he opened his mouth to screech something fierce at him, which only provoked Lawrence to grin stupidly.

"Enough!" A sharp voice pierced behind the bandit.

A short woman - almost comically short - with thick black hair strode towards him. There was a purple streak down the centre of her hair that looked out of place with her combat uniform. Lawrence's eyes narrowed as he studied her attire, it matched Pig-necks. Which was discouraging, an organised group of bandits was not to be dallied with. Yet, Lawrence didn't let his guard drop. 

“Are you who I need to thank for this delightful interaction, honestly Pig-neck, is it ok if I call you that? Of course, it is. Well, we’ve been having been having quite the conversation, we were-”

She cut him off, her voice was a sharp as the teeth she bared. “What’s Handsome Jack's doppelganger doing all the way out here with a Siren no less?”

“Doppelganger?” Lawrence raised his brows innocently. “You’ve got your Jack's crossed, lady.”

“I think not.”

She drew a gloved hand and yanked up Lawrence's chin, so his throat was bare for all to see. Her large sunken eyes trailed over the scar above his collarbone before they flashed up to meet his. 

“Hello, Timothy.”

That shut him up.

“I wasn’t a very reliable shot back then, but that’s definitely my handiwork.”

Lawrence's lip twitch, he mentally cursed his lack of control. Jack hated that scar, he'd tried to laser it off, but nothing they did removed the mark. They couldn't fathom what the shooter had done to the bullet which had seared into his skin so efficiently. They could only conclude it was a high-grade secret military prototype.   
  
“Sorry, you didn’t get the real deal. Must have been disappointing, to hit the wrong guy and to have such piss-poor aim,” he drawled.   
  
She tsked at him and shook her head, "no matter, you’re both on my naughty list, and you're here now.”   
  
“And what earned me a spot on that special list?”   
  
“Murder.”   
  
Lawrence huffed with indignation, “murder is kinda my thing. You’re going to have to be more specific.”   
  
“Many of my men would like a lot of personal time with you.”   
  
Lawrence grin the same maniac expression Jack wore so well, "Pig-neck and I have already had quality time together, thanks."   
  
The unnamed woman dug her blunt nails into his chin, "you've murdered the young and the innocent. Time to meet your charge."   
  
“Seriously what is this? the vague awards?”

“Your wounded collarbone was the only thing to tell you Hyperion waste apart,” her voice dropped to a whisper, as her eyes continued to linger over his exposed neck. 

Something stirred in Lawrence, his eyes fell downcast as he considered her words again. No one knew about the wounded collarbone, but Jack, their Doctor, and Nisha. 

And...Vallory. The decrypt bandit queen who had failed to take Jack and him out on one of their vacations. She knew, and to this day they never knew how. Lawrence had thrown Nisha under the bus for that revelation, and Jack ate it up.

“You're the one who hired Vallory,” Lawrence deadpanned to his captors.

“Yes,” she replied with a thin-lipped smile. 

Lawrence laughed “how many times have you tried to kill me? You’re not doing a very good job.” 

Lawrence honestly didn't believe it would be possible to break the composed woman so quickly. No doubt he was wrong. He nails dug into his cheeks and slashed away at the skin. 

"Tania!" Pig-neck interviewed.

"Oh, so we have a name," Lawrence smiled victoriously.

She let him go and leaned back up, not that it mattered. She was an unusually small woman for someone who intended to radiate strength and dominance.

“Give him an Atlas Hello to go. Find me when he's ready,” she swung on her heel to leave. "And make sure the drip line is secure, I do not want a repeat of last time."

* * *

Lawrence twisted his neck to the side as if to spill fragmented thoughts out of his head. Wincing, he pried his eyes open, it took a long bitter time to adjust to the light. Everything appeared unnaturally bright, fractured. He stifled a groan something wasn't right, his body felt numb. His joints seemed to hiss under his skin as if too much energy was passing over them. A dull pain was being held back, like the quiet throb before a migraine would claim you.

Every part of him felt heavy and restless, yet, unwilling to move for him. When his eyes eventually stayed open, he was met with the harsh disappointment of finding himself in the same room. Sitting on a metal chair, with no base, a bucket under him no less, bolted to the floor, in a cold cell with shitting ventilation.

Except…

He was free.

His arms and legs were no longer bound.

Lawrence took a moment to study every corner and crack in the room, he craned his neck to the side and attempted to spy what laid behind him. A drip line was running up from his back, where they had shoved it in he did not know, his skin felt non-existent. No doubt that had given him some concoction to render his mind and body numb. Lawrence remained still, trying to consider ever sick objective his captives were planning. 

Why would they release his restraints? 

This had to be a game. He sat there for a whole ten minutes weighing the pros and cons or getting up and just leaving.  Eventually, when the disturbing medication numbing his brain wore off, he decided he would attempt the escape they were tempting him with. Lawrence pressed his hands into the arms of the chair and leaned forward with the intent of standing. 

That's all it took, that little adjustment in his posture, that tiny bit of movement sent him into a realm of agony that he had never felt the likes of.

He screamed the kind of panic dread-inducing scream a beast would make at the abattoir. 

Something wasn’t right.

They had done something to his body, and it was tearing him apart from the inside. Tears flushed down his face, and pathetic long sob left him. His lungs strain from the torture tearing up his abdomen. He couldn’t move an inch without excruciating pain twisting in his gut. They had 'granted' his freedom, removed his restraints, but the effort to just lift his arm, press his leg up or lean his stomach forward sent the most violent rhythms of pain over him. 

He leaned back upright, glancing behind at the drip he could see its contents were empty. Whatever pain meds they had given him were wearing off, and with every passing moment the reality of the situation was eating him up. He chanced a look at his stomach, there was a prominent scar across his abdomen, whatever had transpired had torn him from hip to hip. An array of staples had been pressed into his skin to stop the gash from splitting open. 

Lawrence turned his arms over, he threw his head back against the chair and roared in anguish from the slight adjustment in his pose, but he had to see. The same scars ran up his biceps, and he suspected if he lifted his legs up he'd see the same on his calf. But the dread of the pain held him back.

What the fuck had they done to him.

"It's called an Atlas Hello," A gentle disembodied voice drifted through his pain. Lawrence strained his head up, Tania was in the doorway. 

Lawrence offered her a vile curse in reply.

Her eyes flashed something dangerous, just like Jack, she was not one to appreciate his use of words.

She stepped aside and Pig-neck, pushed in a small surgical trolley. If not for the pain Lawrence would have rolled his eyes. No doubt the cart would be covered in vicious utensils all designed to give him tortuous pain. 

_ How fucking vanilla. _

Carefully keeping his body still he strived his head up to see what laid on the surgical table. Various syringes of different colours were spread across it, Lawrence recognised three out of the four.

The ones he recognised were all Ashin issued health-kits. Red for general tissue repair, a standardly issued health-kit. Orange for organ damage, must be administered to a specific organ to be effective and teal for blood cell replenishment.

The last syringe had a clear liquid with no packaging, giving no clue as to what it contained. 

"If you don't move then none of these will need to be put to use," Tania indicated to the array of health-kits next to her. There was enough there to fuel an entire medical ward.

Tania bore that same thin-lipped smile from when they first met, Lawrence's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room once again. He couldn't recall much after that, everything was black until now.

"And if you escape. Well, then let's say that the 'Atlas Goodbye'. Leave this place, and you're free to go. If you can." She finished with a swift sneer. 

Lawrence ignored her patronising words about escapes and Atlas hellos or whatever. Tania dismissed Pig-neck and proceeded to pick up the needle with the clear liquid.

"And that one," Lawrence growled, eyes focused on the transparent substance in the syringe.

"I had this delivered just for you."

"It's been a while since a woman has ordered me anything. I usually prefer an old fashioned, scotch, thanks."

Tania did not appreciate his wit and only replied with a forced smile. 

"You have a sly tongue, let's put it to better use."

Lawrence snorted at her feeble attempts of intimidation. He had years of interrogation training at the hands of Wilhelm and Jack, he knew the drill. Tania's jaw twitched, she turned on her heel and paced to his side where a second drip line parted from the main one. 

"Where is Angel? The girl travelling with me?"

She didn't reply.

"She's here. I know it, let me speak with her, and I'll exchange a few notes with you."

Tania only greeted him with a wide-eyed snarl as her calloused fingers carefully pushed down the plunger. Almost half of the clear liquid was forced into the drip line.  Lawrence kept his jaw clenched tight, he prepared himself for the assault of pain or deliriousness the substance was no doubt going to induce on him, but it never came.

"The girl, Angel, she...she has," Lawrence slurred. 

He shook his head lightly as a warm buzz ran up his spine, no doubt that was where the injection site was. He felt a warm, thick sensation trickle over his mind, it soothed his senses, he could practically taste something warm and sweet.

"She has nothing...to do..." the words were barely slipping out now.  It was increasingly painful for Lawrence to keep his thoughts coherent. 

His breathing became slow and smooth. When he filled his lungs, everything swayed. His head fell forward, and his eyelids started to drift shut. He still felt a dull ache of pain over his body, but somehow it didn't bother him anymore. 

“Angel...she...nothing,” but Lawrence lost his thoughts, the words died in his mouth. 

Tania cupped the side of his head and pulled him back upright, her touch was so welcome. Lawrence found himself almost kneading his head into her fingers.

“What is your name,” she purred to him, her lips seemed to move slower than the words escaping her, Lawrence couldn't take his eyes off her. 

_ Handsome Jack. _

“Timothy...Lawrence,” he mumbled back.

_ No, that's not right.  _ Lawrence groaned and tried to pull away from the gentle hands which held him. 

“Good,” she gave him a warm smile, and Lawrence resisted the urge to respond with a smile of his own. He wanted to keep that smile on her face. If he answered her questions it would stay, he was sure of it. 

Everything felt so right, Lawrence felt his head lulling to the side again. 

“Come back here,” she cooed and steered his face towards hers. 

Lawrence only noticed now she was sitting on a small stool, the height adjusted, so they were level. Her hands were so soft and warm. Lawrence felt the weight of his head lean into her.

_ What have you… _

“Done to me…” he rasped. 

He clenched his eyes and tried to pull away again. He needed to shake off whatever hold she had on him. 

"Let's try another, shall we?" her words seemed to repeat over in his mind, like she spoke atop of a cliff, echoing down on him.

He did not like this, something was wrong it was scratching inside of him, begging him not to talk and then another feeling, warm, and fluttering was drifting him to a quiet place, where his words would be welcomed. Lawrence winced as he shifted his weight uncomfortably, reminded of the pain that would ensue if he moved.

“Who is the Siren?”

Lawrence bit his tongue so hard he could taste iron and feel a bitter sting. 

Her nails dug into his cheeks, “Timothy, tell me who the Siren is.”

_ Leave he out of this _ , he tried to say.

“She’s Handsome Jack’s daughter.”

Lawrence raised an arm to push her away, already forgetting the pain which would result from his struggle. He let out an animalistic hiss and banged his head back into the chair, teeth held tight. Something sliced and tugged inside his arm, Lawrence wanted to lunge forward, curl up and let the pain wash away. But somehow he knew, the strain would be far graver if he pulled on the muscles in his abdomen. He hissed curse after curse as he struggled to fight off the pain, slashing inside his arm. 

“Daughter, you say? And what is the going rate for Siren daughters belonging to the most powerful CEO on this side of the galaxy, I wonder?”

The pain brought him his moment of clarity, the dream shattered. 

“She doesn’t belong to Jack,” Lawrence growled.

“Oh I see...so she’s  _ yours _ ?" Tania replied with a patronising noise.  

"Fuck you, cunt," he spat a mouthful of blood her way.

"THAT!" Tania drew a sharp breath, letting it hiss as it glided over her teeth. "Was very rude, Timothy." 

She wiped his blood from her pants as she stood to move. Tania made for the small surgical stand in the corner and retrieved the syringe with the clear liquid again.

“No,” Lawrence pressed, "no, no...more"

He couldn't take any more of this. The battle in his mind was crushing him. She ignored his words and shoved the needled into his drip line and empty the entire vial. Lawrence stiffened as he felt the flush of warmth run up his back, he tried to reason with himself, not to fall under its disguise of safety and bliss.

_ No more. _

“Stop...” 

He tried to lean back in the chair to catch her eye, but she was too far behind him. The glowing fever worked over him, dripping down his shoulders and across his body. Eventually, she sat back down, and her amber eyes settled on his once again. His own felt heavy, and he struggled to keep them open. He so desperately wanted to stay awake, keep her happy and talk to her. 

“Sit up,” her hands snagged him by the chin and lifted his head forward. 

_ No. This isn't right. _

Lawrence tried to spit on her again, yet, it resulted in only a dribble of blood from his agape mouth. She gave him a sly smile and pulled the chair up closer.

“How was Handsome Jack using the Siren?”

Lawrence clenched his hands tight, the pain shot up his arm like wildfire, tearing at his ligaments. He desperately tried to focus on the pain and nothing else, she repeated the question again, this time Lawrence couldn't stop himself. 

“Echo-net...she spied, she sees everything...mind travels through software.” Before Lawrence could counteract it he told Tania Angel's dangerous secret, "she was charging the vault key.”

Her eyes widen, and she nodded, pleased with his answer. 

“No…” Lawrence whimpered, “no, no, no.”

He didn’t want to say that. They couldn’t know that.  _ Fuck _ .

“What else Timothy,” Tania pressed him gently.

_ Fuck you. _

Lawrence pressed his back as far as it could into the chair. He wasn’t going to answer, yet he did.

“Used Eridium on her.” 

_ No. Stop talking. _

Lawrence raised his arm, to pull her off him. The pain was violent, and all he managed was to gently brush her arm.

“No…Fuck…I’m not telling you.”

“You will,” she smiled. "Tell me more about how Handsome Jack charged the vault key.”

Lawrence's breathing became short rasps as he tried to focus on what to say, no matter how much he willed himself to tell her to fuck off only her desired answers left his mouth.

“Injected it into her, Eridium...there was...a collar...at the Bunker.”

“Good. Thank you, you're doing so well.” Tania ran her hands down the side of his face, her fingers tracing soft circles on his cheeks.

“Now tell me, where is this Bunker? What is its purpose?

“No...” Lawrence heaved a rasped whisper. “No...I won’t. You can't. You can't do that to her.”

Blood trickled down his jaw from where he’d bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself. He shuddered at his own stifled breathing, unable to get enough oxygen through his bloody nose. 

“Timothy you’re already on the maximum dosage of Veritilium if you don’t tell me we will go back to the old-fashioned way of doing things. The way you and Handsome Jack were so fond of.”

Tania continued to trace her hands over his face, gently pulling him in closer. 

"If I give you any more Veritilium, I'll most likely lobotomise you, and I don't want that." She ran a hand down his leg, he didn't flinch, he couldn't as he knew it would trigger an onslaught of pain.

His breathing was grated and heavy, every time his lungs filled up a sharp pain sliced in his gut. His teeth were clenched tight as he let the air whistle through his jaw. He needed to focus on the pain, and the pain only. Not her questions. Just pain.

“Hmm? Wasn’t oil and fire Jack’s signature method? Should we try that instead?” Tania hummed to him.

It was. Jack loved to see things burn. People mostly.

Lawrence winced again, and a pathetic whimper escaped his closed jaw. His cry was a reaction to his own frustration, his pain had nothing to do with it. He could handle pain, but this? This was pushing him to the limit. Everything he told them gave them more power over Angel, they'd know how to hold her and abuse her just as Jack had done. Yet, his mind and body wanted to talk to her. Keep her happy, if he answered the pain would go? She’d be satisfied, and maybe then she'd let him rest.

“The Bunker is in...the Highlands...military guarded...no one knows it exists but Jack and me...I was stationed to guard and watch over her...Jack...he...”

“Why you?” Tania raised a brow, "I've watched over you for five years, Timothy, and Jack never let you stray far."

“I...I was sent there. To be kept safe. Away from harm.” The words were freely spilling from his mouth he hardly had the energy to fight back.

“You? Safe?”

“I...I was..."

He didn't want to say it aloud as if the vocal admission would cement the truth. Confirm what he already knew to be true. He bit his lip so hard he felt the blood trickle across his chest. Tania wasn't pleased, her eyes darted back to the syringe and the empty vial of Veritilium.

"I was sick...I am sick,” Lawrence murmured.

Tania’s smile widened into a grin, so sharp it could cut away at her own flesh.

“What happened Timothy?” she purred, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Why are you sick?"

“I...was poisoned,” he mumbled, “Jack wanted to keep me safe...he was so mad," Lawrence shook his head meekly. The memory of Jack was a strain on his mind, Jack was livid he burned the man alive responsible.

"It was meants for both ofs us...the poison...it only got me...he was so, so, so mad,” Lawrence could only slur his words now. 

Tania threw her head back and gave a hearty laugh.

Lawrence closed his eyes and smiled, it felt nice to hear her laugh. He wanted to make her laugh again, to make her smile. She sounded so pleased when she smiled. 

“Oh, so, I did get one of you,” she hissed as her hands dug into his face.

_ One of us? _

Lawrence opened his eyes again, he didn’t know what to say, his mind was so hazy. He couldn’t put the pieces together. Her smile was still there, so he reasoned he was doing something right. 

“I poisoned you,” she smiled a toothy grin. ”Woe, another failed attempt. However, it must have taken a lot to bring you back from that. Let me guess, Jack dosed you up nice and full with Eridium? Hmm, what was the price I wonder?”

_ The price? _

The poison had crippled his nervous system and as the Eridium tried to fight it back the two mutated together. 

He died, Jack gave him Eridium to save him, but in an attempt to soothe his own withdrawals Lawrence overdosed in the bathtub. It was hell, and for a whole ten seconds he was clinically dead, but Jack brought him back. 

Jack saved him, yet, again.

However, the damage was already done, and Lawrence was given his second death sentence in the form of a medical letter informing him his nervous system was permanently mutated and was degenerating. Another Eridium dosage was all it would take to accelerate the process.

He was going to waste away and Jack was furious. 

Jack slaughtered two other doubles in his rage, created an entirely new division to look for a cure and then sent him away. Protect him until there was a viable treatment. For six months Lawrence sat alone at the Bunker, with no one but the 'Siren' to talk to. For six months his mind retraced every decision he made every step that had led him to become Jack. 

Jack had left him to rot away, so he returned to his initial plan. The plan he had when his face had been burnt away with the mark of the vault.

He was going to kill the Siren. 

That would have got Jack's attention, that would have shown him not to fucking leave him to waste away in some fortress in the most remote parts of Pandora.

And then every changed when he discovered her identity. Lawrence drew a pointed breath, the memories were felt so fresh. Tania had led him to this path, she had ruined everything. He'd been happy on Helios, safe with Jack by his side. Everything was-

Tania soft words snapped him from his thoughts, "thank you for sharing that."

Although they hadn't been thoughts, Lawrence eyes opened up his mouth hung open as he processed everything he'd just said aloud. 

He bowed his head, he wouldn't cry, he wasn't allowed to cry. So he just hyperventilated, and with every breath, his stomach tore. 

"So you took the Siren as revenge? This was no noble act to save her? You felt rejected by a lover, oh Timothy. That is so, _so_ _sad_."

_ Fuck you. _

Lawrence's mind snapped away from the charade it was pulling over him. He threw himself forward, forgetting the pain which would ensure. He barked a violent cry as he tried to scratch at her amber eyes. Yet he only succeeded to fall on the floor. His arms and legs were unable to support him, so he fell to his side before rolling onto his back. 

Lawrence screwed his face up, blood welled in his lungs, he rasped and tried to breathe. The blood was drowning him. He choked and sprayed crimson down his front. 

"You've sliced your ligaments, that's why you can't sit up. The blood? You've most likely torn your lungs and stomach open," she said flatly as she knelt beside him. 

Lawrence only responded with more blood pouring out of his mouth. 

“You know, I used to pity you, Timothy. But there is nothing left of that man, so there is nothing left to pity.”

His vision was fading, and he couldn't breathe. He could only see red and her thin-lipped smile. 

“You are going to die here. No part of who you once were is of value to me. Once you’ve told me what I need to know, what Jack knows, then we will finally let you be at peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still enjoying my OC Tania. Please, let me know on a scale of ten how much you hate her :D This chapter is literally 5k or torture porn and I'm not even sorry. Enjoy the mess that I've produced for you all. Xxxx Plus, come and chat or just say hi on my Tumblr: **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)**
> 
> Comments make my day shine! X
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique; details unknown.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A drug that appears to affect the mind; details unknown.


	23. Is this bad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include #graphicdepictionsofviolence #forceddrugconsuption**

They gave him nothing in the ways of food or water and worst of all; information. Lawrence gained no knowledge of the captors who held him and the consequences of Angel. Something in the drip was supplying his body with nutrients, another dosage healed his body and something else kept him compliant, and his mouth willing to talk.

It was hell.

His training hadn't prepared him for this. He'd been taught to endure pain, never to shrink and hide, to withstand everything that was thrown at him. But, this was crushing him, stifling all ambition to fight back. The temptation of escape was masticating in his mind, but every effort to move cut away at his insides.

They questioned him, over and over.

He told them every code and entry point into Hyperion's servers. He explained how to enter the bunker, what its defences were, what they would find. He told them where on Pandora hidden laboratories worked away, which mines were most active, and when shift rotations moved back to Helios. 

Worst of all he told them how to contain Angel, how to use her, trap her with the collar and Eridium.

Everything Jack had entrusted him with came pouring out. 

Every so often he would snap. He'd try and swing a punch into Tania's face, and every time it resulted in searing pain. Lawrence trained himself not to move, this was their fucking game. Tempt him with escape, to keep hope alive, but ruin it all the moment he tried to claim it.

What happened to a solid punch in the face or a few torn off fingers? Jack and he were too vanilla or too old school. 

Another day passed. It took the entire morning for him to find the courage and take the first step from the chair. 

He could do this, right? It was just pain, he could fight through it. An 'Atlas Goodbye', Tania explained. If he escaped, he was free to go, that was the game. 

He ended up on the floor crying, stomach covered in blood.

The guards stood over him, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Handsome Jack naked on the floor begging to be helped up. They didn’t, they only jeered and prodded him with the barrel of their rifles.

Lawrence pressed his weight on his palms to lift himself up. Something in his wrists snapped, and he landed face first on the ground. His right arm became limp, something inside him had slashed his arm open entirely. His ligament was pushed through the gash, cut in half. The pain drove black spots across his vision, he hurled forward and dry wretched, and that only resulted in the pressure in his stomach to split him open too. He rolled over and clutched at his abdomen, something pressed up against the skin, sharp and cold, there was something in him. 

He coughed up a mouthful of blood and let it well in his mouth and drip down his cheek before he passed out.

This happened another three times, every morning he’d wake back up in the chair attached to a drip which would have healed him over the cycle. He knew he was a stubborn bastard, they even complimented him on all his attempts, but he broke in the end. 

He wasn't bound, the door was right there, but he couldn't move, and still, he had no idea what they had done.

By the fifth or sixth cycle, he had told them everything.

He tried to drag it out as long as he could, every little bit of information he withheld was a little bit of time for himself. But now that it was all gone, the questions stopped. They had what they needed, it would be time to get rid of him.

* * *

They were an unstoppable force, the three women had the entire ship under their control.

The viral Felicity carried out the more violent tasks of disabling any forces which charged Angel's way. The original Felicity was in Angel's echo acting as second pair eyes on the back of her belt and Angel was able to freely use her powers against any other forces which slipped their way. 

She had a route planned out, and the viral Felicity closed and opened doors to lead her away from her pursuers. If they got too close, Felicity would instruct Angel down another path and redirect the men with whatever the ship could throw at them. Yet, they were catching on, cameras were being pulled down, security checkpoints ripped from the doors. 

Angel and her AI's were losing their advantage.

Her eyes darted to every corner ahead Angel was currently running blind as the hallway was absent of all cameras. She remained in the holding cells, winding through doors after doors to block the men on her trail. Angel locked herself inside another security room this one thankfully had everything intact. The holo-screen in front of her came alive without her input.

The viral Felicity flashed her thoughts across the screen, 'SEE'.

Angel bounced back when the screen in front of her came alive with a video feed. Two of Tania's men were dragging another under their arms down the very hall Angel had just run down. There was no mistaking that mop of hair, the leather jacket and tall build. 

It was Lawrence. Timestamp from six cycles ago. 

Angel's fist hit the counter, "is there anything else?" She implored to the AI. "Where did they take him?! Is he ok?"

'ANGEL ESCAPE' the words flashed across the screen.

"No! I'm not leaving him here," she leaned towards the camera above the feed. So the viral Felicity could see her, "please, Felicity, take me to him!" Angel begged the AI.

'ANGEL ESCAPE, 'THEY ARE N-T DA-H'

She frowned, Felicity's words were becoming disjointed. Angel leaned in closer to the holo-screen as if it would somehow make the message clearer.

T-EY  -RE N0- B---I-S, T---A -S ---TA-I- -A-E---N'

"Felicity I cannot read it!" Angel stressed, she frantically tapped her hands on the counter as she waited for the rest of the message to load.

‘---T --G--- --N’

Angel threw her tattooed hand to the holo-screen, hoping the viral Felicity could speak to her directly. One last message flew through her mind.

_ 'ANGEL RUN’ _

The screen fizzled with static, "Felicity?" Angel called, her mind continued searched deep into the system for her. 

Tania was fighting back, huge chunks of hardware were missing. Angel continued to fight the firewalls, digger deeper for the viral AI. She had to pull her out, or she'd be trapped in this awful place forever.

_ 'Felicity!? _ ' Angel called into the system.

Something stirred in her mind; the AI was trying to reach her. 

"I've got you," Angel whispered to herself, she latched onto the weaken AI and began to pull the code into her mind. She reached for her Echo-comm to transfer the AI into a safe space. 

Yet, the static on the screen cut to black and Angel was flung from the device. Her vision went red, the clips on the side of her head burned into her skull, the throttle of pain forced her to her knees. She wasn't done, the AI was in her mind, pulled apart too soon. Tears rocketed down Angel's pink cheeks, she buried her forehead into her arms. She hadn't been fast enough, Tania beat her yet again. 

Angel sobbed into her blood-soaked sleeves, smearing red along her cheeks.

The viral Felicity gave her life to save her.

"It’s ok Angel, we both knew this would be our...her fate," Felicity reassured her from her echo-comm. "Get up dear. We need to-"

Felicity was cut off, a new transmission came through her echo-comm, "It's over Angel." 

She recognised that silvery voice. Angel held up her echo, Tania had a small trickle of blood flowing down her forehead. Her bright amber eyes were feral as she spoke.

"It's over," Tania repeated with a hissed breath. "Your AI can not work without a mainframe."

"What did you do?" 

"Pulled her apart, a bloody painful expense that's going to be," Tania sighed her tone casual despite the chaos raging on behind her.

Angel acknowledged her once reserved composure was fraying at the edges. Tania's eyes sunk heavy into her cheeks, and her face was stretched thin with stress.

"Where is Lawrence?" Angel seethed, through grit teeth. 

Tania only responded with a hearty deep laugh, "after everything you've done? Your little AI trick has killed  _ a lot _ of people."

Angel tried to ignore her words.

"How does it feel? To kill?" Tania was whispering now, her eyes wide as she searched Angel's face through the comm. Her lips parted as if the very thought of violence made her hungry for more.

Angel would not give an answer to satisfy the woman's depraved mind. 

"I tried to be hospitable. I tried to let you adjust, ease you into our operation, but you're making that incredibly difficult." Tania's voice raised with every 'friendly' effort she related to Angel.

"I'm not staying here, you cannot keep me! I'm not a prize to be won," Angel snapped. 

' _ Angel you must ignore her, this is a distraction _ ,' Felicity's words swam in her mind, but Angel couldn't heed the advice. 

Tania said something that made her breathing hitch and heart sink.

"Timothy, or Lawrence as you seem to prefer to call him, met his fate this morning. I saw no point in keeping the double alive."

"No," Angel whispered, "no you didn't, you wouldn't. He's too-"

Tania snapped, "he's too what?! This man is as violent, hostile and corrupt as Handsome Jack."

Angel wanted to look away.

Tania took in a wild pleased breath, "and you know it," her tone victorious, she lifted her chin to jeer at Angel.

"How could you honestly want to return to the individual who looked and acted like your father? He may as well be the one who held you prisoner for all those years.” Tania's voice boomed through the comm

Angel was shaking her head, she didn't want to hear this. Her heart was a surge of nerves, beating erratically in her fragile chest. 

"He told me about your 'rescue'."

Angel's lips quivered as Tania continued to spill truths she didn't need to hear or know. 

"He planned to kill you. Take you out. Did he tell you that?" Tania's lips were drawn up into a fierce grin. "His 'rescue' was nothing but a pathetic cry for help to his sadistic lover." Tania spat as if the very words held a disgusting taste in her mouth.

"I don't believe you." Angel shook her head, "you've done nothing but lie to me!" 

"Then you should be able to tell when I'm telling the truth now." 

"No," she shuddered away from the comm in her hands. "You...you can't," yet her words were nothing but fragments of her shattered thoughts. 

“Angel," Tania's tone softened.

_ Oh, _ she knew that  _ tone _ . That was Jack's voice, she was going to offer something to stain her mind with guilt. Bind her to thoughts which would make her compliant, make her believe the fault was with her.

“You're a brilliant, young woman, my men and I only want to restore peace to Pandora. We want to take down Hyperion, to stop Handsome Jack from opening the Vault. An objective I was hoping you would align yourself with."

"ENOUGH!" Angel yelled back, she bared her teeth and felt her own hot breath bounce back at her from the comm. “I am Handsome Jack's daughter, I know a false proposition when I see one.” She all but puffed out her chest and for the briefest of moments, she felt pride. No one could con her now. Not that she was free from the devil himself.

“Goodbye, Tania.”

Angel raised her hand and scrambled the code behind the communication system in her comm preventing Tania's signal from ever reaching her again. 

“I’m proud of you,” Felicity spoke from her echo-comm. “Standing your ground.”

“Thank you,” she replied earnestly as started to pull open the locker doors. 

Angel relaxed her fists, she could only hope that the viral Felicity had the chance to open the doors to lead her to Lawrence. She reached for lockers on the far wall and found Lawrence's gear chip, echo-comm, sniper and hunting knife. Angel worried her lip, the digistruct watch was missing. She stored the weapons in the gear chip and equipped the rest to her belt before she set forward at a furious pace. 

Felicity spoke again. However this time her voice strained, "Angel, I didn't know."

Angel released the mechanics to another hallway, Lawrence had to be here. 

"I didn't know why Timothy saved you.

"None of it matters," Angel cut the AI off, "I'm not leaving this place without him."

Felicity hummed pleased.

* * *

His mind was being emptied of Veritilum, it had clouded his judgement and thoughts for days. He couldn't tell apart what he thought in his subconscious and what he said aloud. Lawrence's lips were chapped and bloodied, from biting into them, his tongue just as raw. Blood trickled over his jaw and down his chest from his feverish attempts to stop talking. For too long they had held his mind underwater, suffocating it from all other thoughts besides the questions directed at him.

And now that his mind was free it only focused on one thing; Angel.

Where was she? What had happened to her? And worst of all, what had they done to her?

There is no way the girl would have survived this. Lawrence was barely hanging on, all threads of courage were nearly cut in half. He had no hope of a rescue, but he'd never go down without a fight. Pig-neck had come to see him off, and Lawrence was going to give him hell before it ended.

The decrepit man had enjoyed every moment, often he'd sit in the corner and watch Lawrence succumbed to Tania's words. Every time Lawrence tried to turn his attention to him to yell something vile, Tania would latch onto his chin and draw him back to her. Lawrence couldn't help it, Pig-neck had something he craved. His bandit captor kept his jacket cuffs rolled up, deliberately rolling his wrists under the dim light. Letting it catch on the watch's face so it would flash across Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence fumed at the thought of Nyx and Crake being bound to such a man. It was there on his wrist, just an arms reach away, but Lawrence couldn't move. 

“That watch,” Lawrence bit down on his lip and mentally cursed (aloud) he hadn't meant to say that.

“Oh, you like this?" Pig-neck glowed as he flashed the watched towards Lawrence. 

Pig-neck was in his space, but Lawrence was out of tricks, and the bandit had learnt not to linger to close.

"I nabbed it off some talkative arsehole,” his grip on Lawrence's knee was relentless as he leaned in closer. Pig-neck’s grubby fingers spent too much time on Lawrence’s thigh.

_ Dammit _ , Lawrence wanted to break his nose so badly again.

"Yeah, not falling for that," Pig-neck huffed.

And Lawrence groaned, knowing he had vocalised his thoughts once again. 

_ 'it was my wife’s…please...let me die with it on'  _ Lawrence attempted to lie, yet only the truth came out, "Jack gave it to me. I need it back."

Pig-neck made a rasping noise, followed by a seedy chuckle, "seems your tongue is finally an honest one."

_ 'Please, I-I’m bleeding out...at least let me touch it one last time.' _

If only he could lie, make the bandit offer him this one mercy, yet still, the truth escaped his chapped lips. 

"Come on you fucking bandit, give it to me," Lawrence hissed. 

“Think I'm an idiot? I know this is a digistruct watch.”

Lawrence refused to let his face give up the facade, he kept his expression shrivelled up in distraught. 

“Please,” Lawrence feigned a whimper, “I never wanted to help Jack, I never wanted any of this,” Lawrence continued to spill half-truths to his guard, an effort that took all of his control to vocalise. 

“I’ll do anything,” Lawrence licked his ruined lips and let his eyes gaze down his captive’s waist, “anything.”

The decrepit man paused for a moment, evidently weighing the pros and cons of his request. A stubby hand ran over his golden moustache.

"Goddammit, I want to rip that fucking stupid thing off your face."

Lawrence bit his lip.

"Fuck," he cursed his stupidity, he had not meant to say that.

"Stupid? Yeah, that's one word to describe you. Pathetic is more applicable in this situation," Pig-neck patronised Lawrence's 'thoughts'.

Lawrence looked away, this was not a fight he could win, not with his mind poisoned to betray him.

“Oh god,” Pig-Neck mocked with a heavy sigh, “you truly are pathetic.”

The bandit took a long stride towards him, with a brutal kick he parted both of Lawrence's legs and stood between them. Further exposing his naked form to the man. Pig-neck's crotch was level with Lawrence's face, “anything you say?” his voice was smothered in disgust yet tinged with lust.

_ Hurry it up, you sick fuck, _ Lawrence made a choking sound as he bit his tongue keeping his mouth shut to prevent his thoughts exposing his intentions. Only once he collected himself he let out another whimper and gazed up at the man before him, “please”.

Pig-Neck slapped a hand down on Lawrence's shoulder and pulled him forward, Lawrence cried short breaths as his stomach tore from the inside from being moved. Pig-neck lowered his voice to a husky whisper, “you think I’m that thick?” 

“Well that and your neck,”  _ fuck _ , Lawrence winced, his mouth responded quicker than he could slam it shut. 

Pig-Neck slammed Lawrence's head back into the chair, dark spots swamped his vision.

“Now, I think would be a good time to remove that tongue, its purpose is at an end.”

Lawrence cursed (aloud again), he could feel his own heart pounding away, every beat edged him closer to the end, pumping the blood faster out of the wounds clawing inside of him. He wanted to clench his hands tight but had learned not to move any of the ligaments or muscles in his arms. Pig-Neck twirled the knife in his hand before fixing it firmly in his grip, his other arm shot forward and dug into Lawrence’s cheeks. His fists smelt like sewage and Lawrence heaved in an attempted to not gag at the smell. 

“Open up.”

Lawrence kept his jaw clenched shut, and his eyes fixed on the watch, which hung on the arm in front of him.

"I just need it to touch me", Lawrence whispered aloud.

"What did you say Handsome?"

Lawrence tried to censor his thoughts with pain. He deliberately moved his leg to the side, ensuring his calf was torn. Focusing on the pain and nothing else was his only trick left. The single way to ensure his mind stayed closed from all other thoughts. Lawrence strained his head back, but Pig-Neck’s grip was relentless. 

_ It just needs to skim my skin, it should be enough. No, think of the pain, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

The bandit huffed, and with the watch adored hand he clenched Lawrence's nose shut. It didn’t take long for Lawrence's mind to scream at him to open his jaw, his chest spasmed from the lack of air, and his mouth rasped open. Pig-Neck drove the blade into his mouth, the watch trailing behind it. The razor edge sliced the top of his tongue, but it didn’t matter, none of it did, the watch’s cold metal surface was pressed against Lawrence's red and broken lips.

Lawrence could only hope he’d lost enough blood for the watch to register him in a critical state, with the DNA sensors touching his skin they could evaluate his condition if it were dire enough Nyx and Crake would automatically come to save the day; they did. 

_ Oh, you are so fucked.  _

Magenta and cyan waves of light burst from the watch and with a spark of pixels the Nyx and Crake stood ready beside him. Pig-neck flung himself back, the blade slicing the top of Lawrence's mouth open as his hand retracted. 

“What the?!” he shrieked.

Crake, took one look at Lawrence and nodded before he grasped a silencer over his laser and fired it up and under the chin of the bandit. His head exploded magnificently, blood and brain matter painted a mural across the roof. Pig-neck dropped to the ground between Lawrence's legs. Coughing, Lawrence screwed his face up, and he spat a mouthful of blood on top of his recently deceased captor. 

“Oh fuck,” Nyx exclaimed, “where are your clothes?!"

"Gone," Lawrence uttered a red toothy grin.

"Is this bad? It looks pretty bad?” Nyx fretted at his side. 

“As opposed to what?! GOOD!?” Crake rounded on his brother. 

Lawrence kept his head bowed, rasping in air between the blood dripping from his agape mouth. 

“I can’t perform a scan when the watch isn’t on you,” Crake’s eyes were wide as he searched him over. 

Lawrence felt static flush up his spine as Crake lowered himself level with him.

"Tim?" Crake called, "did you hear me?"

Lawrence slowly nodded and pulled his head back up.

“You don’t need to scan him, he's fucked,” Nyx's voice wavered as he started pacing around the room.  

"Thanks, Nyx,” Lawrence smiled, “for that...observation,” he spat another mouthful of blood to the ground.

Nyx stopped his pacing, "where is Angel?” Worry strained his voice.

“I don’t know”, Lawrence heaved. “I’ve not seen her since they took us.”

Crake rested a hand on Lawrence knee, “who's they? Who has you?” His voice began to tremble in a way reminiscent of Jack. Vicious and depraved, ready for violence. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.” Lawrence bowed his head again to let the blood drip freely.

“This is bad,” Crake's voice was low.

"Yeah, I figured.”

"Fuck!" Nyx sudden outburst drew the attention of both Crake and Lawrence, "Stupid, fricken, holo bodies," he was staring at his hands in front of him. "We can't do anything like this!"

Nyx's expression grew distraught as he wandered back over to Lawrence. He tried to help him up, but nothing the cyan digistruct did would move him. 

"Tim, I hate this!" Nyx rocked back and forth, his composure crumbling and Lawrence experienced a strangely familiar feeling of seeing his own Handsome Jack persona breaking down.  

Lawrence carefully nodded his head, "its ok. We will think of something."

Crake was yet to make a comment on the matter. Nyx returned to pacing around the room. Occasionally kicking his feet at the dead bandit, painfully watching as his leg would just swing through the dead man.

"You can't move can you?" Crake stated flatly. 

Lawrence eyes lowered to the magenta digistruct in front of him and slowly shook his head. Crake hissed back something vicious, "I'm going to find the animals who did this, I'm going to-"

Lawrence cut him off, there was one other they could call. He turned his head towards Nyx. “Pa-atch..in Jack...Now,” he slurred.

"Are you sure?" Crake questioned him steadily, Lawrence gave a hesitant nod.

Nyx brow was furrowed as he wordlessly acknowledged the request. His body fizzled with static as he tried to reach the real Jack on Helios. Lawrence’s head was rolled onto his shoulder as his eyes flickered, barely able to focus on the two holograms in front of him.

“Finally! Dammit, Tim, I thought you’d never call-”

Jacks voice brought some clarity to him, he shifted his head up and pried his eyes open. The cyan digistruct was still there, but it was no longer Nyx, the real Jack now possessed the holograms body. 

“Oh...Timmy,” Jacks tone fell for the briefest of moments before he burst out laughing. “Oh, you are really screwed aren’t you?!” Jack cheered and waved a digital hand towards him.

“I leave you in a comfy bed, enjoying some Eridium bliss and here you are, butt naked, bleeding out in a...Is this a fucking bandit dungeon?”

“Language…” Lawrence sneered, with blood oozing from his teeth.

“Don’t get me wrong, it's a gorgeous sight, like all of you is perfect. I just prefer to see you like this under different circumstance,” Jack’s tone was a sly as the smile he gave him.

“Yeah,” Lawrence mumbled as his head swayed back to rest on the chair head, “don’t think I’m getting out of this one.”

“Get up, Timmy, you can do it,” Jack waved his hands forward enthusiastically. "Get up for Jack, baby."

“I-I can’t” Lawrence's voice finally caved. He knew how pathetic he sounded, the thought of moving made his body quiver, causing him to hiss in pain.

“Tim, hey kitten, look up, look here" Jack's voice was reassuring, and Lawrence faithfully obliged. 

"Jack," his breathing caught as blood continued to drown his windpipe.

The holograms blue hued eyes were downcast as they lingered on the gash across his abdomen. Jack reached a digital hand forward, and Lawrence felt the familiar tingle as he traced his fingers across the mark.

"What did they do to you?” Jack’s voice was slow, cautious even.

“I don’t know...something...about Atlas...welcome? Hello? I can’t...I can't...remember.” Lawrence just hung his head again, he didn’t have the energy to look up at Jack. As much as he wanted to.

“Tim," Jack's voice warned, "what did you tell them?” the last words left him with a snarl. 

“I..." Lawrence had to look away, his breathing was hitching up and over, and every time it did something ripped in his stomach. 

"I...I..." Lawrence bit his tongue, he couldn't tell Jack the truth, it would ruin him, yet the Veritilum hold was firm in his mind.

"Everything…I told them everything," Lawrence began to weep. "I'm sorry Jack…”

Jack was silent for some time, Lawrence willed himself to look up. His face was flat, expressionless, the cyan digistruct didn’t reveal too many details, but Lawrence could see the fury building in Jack's eyes.

“Fuck. I’m going to die here. I'm going to die here, I'm-“

Jack ignored him and cut through his words. "Where are you?” his pitched dropped to a whisper, “I’m coming to get you. Tim? Did you hear me?”

Lawrence drew a sharp breath and curled his stomach in on himself, deliberately tearing everything inside him.

_ Pain, only think of pain. Don't think of Angel. Fuck, don't think, don't think. Jack can't have her, he cannot know where I am, he'll find her. Don't think, don't think of her. Don’t answer. _

Lawrence bit his lip so hard the skin split. 

"Tim!"

Jacks voice was drowning out, he could only scream and spew blood across his lap. 

“Tim, where are you!” Jacks voice was a barely human, low and slick with possessiveness. He kneeled before him, his digital legs standing through the dead bandit. 

“Tim,” Jack implored, “I’m sorry ok? But you need to pull yourself up and find out where you are. They haven’t stopped you from moving, it's just pain, you can do it.”

Lawrence vision was blurring, his eyes fluttered as they strained to stay open.

“Tim! Dammit, I said I was sorry, Ok? Tell me where you are.” 

Lawrence avoided Jack’s gaze and turned his attention to his stomach, it was torn open, and blood poured from the gash. He was going to die here. Jack cursed again and reached for the side of Tim's jaw, static only tinged his sense. Unable to touch. It was all a pointless endeavour. Calling Jack. All of it.

“Activate the tracking on your watch” Jack urged.

Jack’s hand tried to wrap around Lawrence's face.

“God fucking dammit Tim!” Jack roared at him. 

_ Language _ .

His vision was a mass of blurs slowly to be consumed by dark spots. His battered and bruised head scraped against the chair headboard as he was pulled to the side.

“Do something!” Jack reeled onto Crake, but the magenta digistruct just shrugged. 

“I cannot activate the tracking without his approval,” Crake lied.

“I approve!” Jack argued back, Crake only responded by shaking his head. 

There was nothing left to see, darkness had claimed his vision. He could still hear Crake arguing with the enraged Jack. He wasn’t even sure if the two of them heard him as he whispered goodbye and sank into silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the massive amount of man-pain I wrote. OMG! so close to 100k words! who has been here from the beginning?! (I have 145k written, and probs another 50k to go? I think.) This story is now **[part of a series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/998034)** , so follow/subscribe that if you want to be notified of future updates! Please come say hi on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ), always happy to chat.  
> 
> 
> ### Author Q:
> 
> **On a scale of 1-10 how badly did you want Tim to punch Pig-neck in the face?**   
>  _Leave your answer in the comments!_   
> 
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique; details unknown.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A drug that appears to affect the mind; details unknown.


	24. An Atlas Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter is the end of the first part of this fic. Consider this the mid-season finale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: #graphicdepictionsofviolence**

Angel called ahead, her voice cracking every time she cried his name. Each hallway was the same, dead bodies paved the way and every cell was empty.

"LAWRENCE!" Angel yelled again, desperation clung to her voice. "TIM!"

No one answered her, only her own call bounced back along the walls.

"Where are you?" she cried.

She had to stop, she was so drained, so tired. Using her powers to such extent was pulling her apart. Before she left the security room, she'd digitised a vile of Eridium from her gear-chip, hoping to use it as a last resort. Her breathing shook when she found it had crystalised. That had been her last resort, and it was gone. Angel groaned as she pulled herself up, she had to keep going.

She aimlessly wandered the corridors, calling ahead. Every time she peeked into a cell her chest tightened with anticipation only to fall back on itself upon seeing the empty chamber.

Felicity vocalised her fears, "Angel dear, we need to leave."

"No", she sobbed back, "I won't leave him here. I won-"

Angel stopped.

Someone was yelling, their tone low and familiar. It was coming from the end of the hall; the last cell. Angel stalked closer, she discerned there were two sets of voice, both the same.

' _ I think that's Crake and Nyx _ ,' she silently spoke to Felicity through the comm.

She was meters away from rounding the corner to the source.

_ 'Angel, stay put. That's not Nyx _ ,' Felicity was shrill as she warned.

The AI was right, his tone was completely different, and he was arguing with who she presumed was Crake.

Angel's heart tore upwards, and she took a step away from the cell.

"It's Jack.”

Felicity hummed in agreement.

“Handsome Jack sir, I’m going to cut the connection, this is futile, and we’re wasting energy. He may surely need us later,” Crake reasoned.

“There's not going to be a later!” Jack roared back, his voice unhinged.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“No, don't you-” Jack cried, but he was cut off.

Angel peered around the corner in time to see blue and red pixels fizzle to the ground.

'Is it safe?' Angel called into the echo-comm.

'I think so.'

Angel turned the corner.

“Oh god!” She clapped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

She couldn't fathom what was worse. The fact Lawrence was stark naked, that her Dad’s body was naked in front of her or the sheer amount of blood. The room was caked in it, it pooled under the chair, it dripped from the ceiling and ran across the walls.

Angel bent over and landed her palms against her knees, and choked as the smell hit her in putrid waves. She knew death was rancid, but never had she experienced it in such a way.

“What is it?” Felicity asked, concern littered her voice. “Oh...OH!” she exclaimed as the echo on Angel’s belt exposed the AI to the sight before her.

Angel stripped her combat jacket overhead, and without looking at him she tossed the garment towards his lap.

“Is he covered?” she whispered, unable to look back.

“Yes,” Felicity replied breathlessly (for an AI).

Angel swivelled around and discovered Lawrence was indeed decent. She wasted no time and ran to his side, careful to evade the headless man at his feet. The blood, Angel, choked again, there was too much blood for two people, it looked like an entire orchestra had bled out in this place.

Lawrence was gone, dead; he had to be.

The tears were already falling down her face as she met his side, her pale hands fluttered over his vitals. The slow exhale of his agape mouth flickered a small flame of hope inside her; he was alive. But, there was so much blood, Angel's breathing hitched as she patted his cheeks.

"Lawrence?" She cupped his face and lifted his chin. "Hey, I'm here. I'm here now, Lawrence?"

His face was bruised and bloodied, almost beyond recognition. There were bite marks all along his lips and over his chin as if he'd forced his own mouth shut. Angel's spirit sunk, he'd been here all this time, for almost a week he'd been abused, alone and beaten. Angel was sobbing as she held his head up, and wiped away the grime and blood from his eyes.

“Please wake up, please be ok.”

He said nothing and his head remained a dead weight in her hands. Angel's eyes rushed over him, her breathing caught in her throat when she spied the drip leaving his back. The line led up to a metal pole where a clear packet hung; it was empty. Still holding him, she turned her gaze to the room. Underneath the layers of grime and blood was a surgical trolly in the corner, on top were neat rows of various types of health kits. The floor surrounding it was littered with emptied ones; there were dozens of them. They had been bleeding him out and healing him repeatedly.

Angel had expelled most of her stomach contents when the viral Felicity had decapitated the first man. Until now she'd been holding down the rest of her breakfast. Yet, Angel reeled over and threw up the last of her meal. She wanted to collapse, curl up and hideaway. This was a sick dream or another trick from Tania.

"Angel, quickly now," Felicity implored, driving her away from her bitter thoughts.

She nodded meekly, her world swaying in a mess of red and black as she tried to steady herself.

“Angel, his watch.”

Felicity brought her attention to the silver digistruct watch attached to the headless man. Angel swallowed down the bile that threatened to spew over as she removed the device. Placing her hand over the teal interface she inserted the code Lawrence had provided her, Crake and Nyx blossomed into existence.

Red pixels burst to her left and blue to her right.

“Help me! I don’t know what to do!” Angel hunched forward and begged the two AI's.

Never had she felt so weak, so useless. Until now she had the entire ship under her control. Her actions had resulted in so much death and destruction. Yet when it came to saving and securing life, she was helpless. The tears of exhaustion and bitter failure streamed down her red smeared cheeks.

“Nyx, find a way to transport him,” Crake was already marching over to Lawrence.

Nyx nodded and disappeared with a flash of pixels.

Crake bent down, a hand rested on Lawrence's face as he tried to stir him, "Tim?" Angel heard him whisper his real name. Lawrence was as unresponsive with Crake as he was with her.

“Angel attach the watch to his wrist, but be careful with him,” Crake jerked his head her way, but his hand remained at Lawrence's side.

Angel did as she was told.

Crake was silent for a moment before his face dropped and if he could lose colour Angel was sure he’d be a few tints paler. His eyes went wide, and the red digistruct’s mouth hung open. He desperately patted at Lawrence's face again. "Tim?!"

"Did you scanned him? What's wrong with him?" she implored the AI for answers.

“He..."

Dread stirred inside her as she watched the composed AI stutter.

"He needs...Angel give him half a vile of the red Health-kit and a full dosage of the other two. After that, do not give him another dosage. He will wake, he will ask for them but do not give them to him. Do you understand?"

There was a fierce warning in his voice and Angel didn't dare disobey. She ran to the trolley and picked up the syringes, pulling the caps off and carefully removing any air bubbles she shot them into his drip line.

Nyx reappeared, his blue body lighting the room.

“There's a surgical table in the next room, it was bolted to the floor, but I've lasered it off. Should be good to go.”

Angel couldn't tear her eyes away from him. There was just so much blood.

"Angel!" Crake snapped at her, "the table in the next room, now."

Angel reluctantly fled Lawrence's side. As she ran, she heard Felicity reprimanded him for snapping, but it didn't matter. She needed to focus, Crake was right, she had to pull herself together.

The table was heavy and refused to move across the grime-stained floor. Angel pressed all of her weight into it, her feet slipped across the ground. She was absolutely sobbing by the time it finally budged and steered through the open door. Nyx stayed by her side, pressing encouraging thoughts to her, but his voice was as strained as hers.

Next, she had to move the dead man, Crake had made the task manageable for her by lasering off his limbs. Angel could not thank him for that, despite the fact she would not have been able to lift him on her own. She dry retched again as she threw what remained of the man in the corner. The blood acted as a lubricant, and she was able to push the table into the cell with ease.

"Don't let the drip line leave him," Crake's voice was beginning to crack. Nyx's voice had shattered long ago.

Angel nearly slipped as she ran to Lawrence's side, with shaking hands she leaned forward and wrapped both arms under his. Bending her knees she heaved upwards; Lawrence barely moved an inch.

“He’s too heavy!”

“Angel, you have to do this” Nyx patted a static reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"O-ok, I know" she stammered.

Angel turned her attention back to the surgical table and was relieved to see it had a lever to lower it. She snapped it down and leaned into the counter allowing it drop as far as it would permit. It now sat at knee height to Lawrence, she locked the wheels in place. Angel paced behind him and began to push Lawrence forward (not before she removed her coat from his waist). He landed face first on the table, his shoulders slumped forward, and his back curled over. With half his weight on the table, she’d just need to lift his legs and heave him up.

Angel pulled the table forward all while trying to hold onto him. When she had enough space to get in front of the chair, she wrapped her arms around his legs and tugged them up. Sweat dripped from her hairline, and her vision was swirling around the edges. She was panting as she removed the drip bag and brought it over to the table, she secured it to the side. Angel grimaced as she saw how it had been crudely shoved into his spine. She supposed it was so he could not reach it. The skin was purple and bruised around the injection site, and there were scratch marks around it from where Lawrence must have tried to pry it out.

Angel was about to cover his back with her coat, but a low growl from Lawrence gave her reason to pause. He woke up, it was a muffled hiss at first, and then he howled. Angel tried to soothe him, but he only pulled his face away and screamed into the metal table below.

“Don't….move me” he hissed at her, blood leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“I-I won't, ok!" Angel's voice cracked as she tried to reassure him.

Crake moved by her side and knelt down beside Lawrence. “Tim,” that got his attention, Lawrence shot his eyes open and glared over at the red digistruct.

“You need to roll over, you're damaging your internal organs lying on your stomach.”

“Can’t” he rasped.

Crake’s hand fell on Angel's shoulder, the static shuddered down her spine. “Angel you need to move him onto his back,” he stressed.

“No” Lawrence's voice shook. "Don't fucking t-touch me. Don-t...any of you."

“Angel do it now, we don’t have time,” Crake warned.

Angel pressed against the side of Lawrence's back and tried to heave him up, all while holding the drip line firmly into his skin. Lawrence only roared in agony.

"FU-FUCK!" he screamed at her and begged her to stop.

Angel couldn’t hear what Crake was saying over his cries. Nyx stood motionless, unable to help and to disturbed to offer words of support. Eventually, Lawrence grabbed the side of the table and flung himself on his back, as he rested down he grasped at his abdomen. His entire stomach was purple, and raised in several spots as if something was pressing against the inside of his skin. A thick scar held together with staples ran across him; Angel wanted to be sick.

She threw the coat over again to make him decent. Not that it mattered now, Angel had seen enough to know this memory was never going to be scrubbed clean from her mind.

Crake's voice finally became audible over Lawrence’s cries. “Felicity search the echo net, find Janey Springs."

"I've got it, making the call now."

Angel could only stare at Lawrence, who continued to hiss in pain, he knocked his head back against the metal table and dug his hands into his hips. Something else was under the skin in his arms, it poked up beneath the surface, alongside the same thick scars. Tears which poured from his working eye left trail marks against the grime and blood.

“Hello? Hellllllo? Oi anyone there?”

Angel couldn’t say anything. Her mouth opened but no sound came out, all she could do was stare at the protrusions on Lawrence's stomach and arms. Whatever pressed against the skin was ready to claw out.

“Angel!” Crake whirled on her, “the call.”

“Yes...Yes! Hello? Miss springs!” she yelled into the receiver of her echo-comm.

“Heya there darlin, what on earth is going on? Sounds like a scav caught in a turbine.”

“We need your help” Angel blurted out.

“Ah, yeah sure, can I ask who this is?”

“Lawrence! Timothy Lawrence!”

“You don’t sound like him? Did you take on another body-double program?”

“No, I’m with him! He’s hurt, someone has us!” Angel cursed herself, she wasn’t making any sense, and the right words just wouldn't escape her.

Felicity took over, her authoritative voice boomed across the room. “Janey Springs, we are with Timothy Lawrence and are in desperate need of aid.”

“Oh..um, well I’d love to help an old friend," she paused, her voice uncertain.

Dread smothered Angel's breathing. She wasn't going to help them. "No, no, no," she whispered all while holding onto the surgical table.

Another voice called in the background of the call. Janey tried to hush the receiver, she became mumbled as she spoke back to the second person. Then the line became clear again.

“This is Athena. You say you have Timothy Lawrence? Handsome Jack's doppelganger?”

Angel's heart jumped again.

“Yes. Athena, this is Felicity, the skipper from the Drankesburg. Timothy is with me, and a girl, Angel. They've been held against their will. Our coordinates are 36.8286° N, 116.4364° W. Can we rely on you?”

Angel blurted into the receiver, “I can pay you!” She could, wiring money from one account to another was child's play.

An agonising moment passed, Angel heard the familiar sound of someone tapping against an echo-comm.

"You're very close to Hollow Point. An hours drive at most."

"We don't have that kind of time," Angel stressed."

"Right. No matter, I'll think of something."

She hung up the call.

Angel was left stunned looking down at the echo. Left with no reassurances, she just fumbled with the device on her belt. Were they actually coming? Did they have enough time?

An explosion made all standing occupants turn to the doorway.

“They’re taking down the walls," Crake deadpanned, "how many more do they have to go?”

“Two more,” Angel, replied meekly.

“We can do this. ”

Lawrence was stirring again, he cried and Angel, bolted to his side only to recoil back at the morbid sight before her. It was hard to see what it was with all the blood, but it definitely had a razor blade edge and was protruded from a gash across his stomach.

Lawrence tried to lift his head up to see, but could only make it an inch before he slammed it back down.

“Wh-at is it? What..the fu-ck d-did they put In me?” he choked spraying blood.

Angel didn’t want to know. Whatever it was, it was tearing him apart from the insides. Now she understood why Crake refused him additional health-kits, it would heal him, and then he’d be ripped open again; they'd waste them all. They could only administer the rest once whatever was in him, was out.

“You have to try and relax,” Angel's voice hitched as she rested a hand on his side.

Lawrence just laughed through the tears.

“I am fucking relaxed.”

“Nyx can you move ahead, try and find us a way out?” Angel pleaded.

He hadn’t said a word, nor had he moved. His eyes were still fixed on Lawrence his jaw set tight, he was physically shaking.

“NYX!” Crake yelled at his brother.

“Yeah, yeah ok!” and he pixelated away.

Angel heaved against the table, it had gone stiff again, she pressed all her weight into it and gave a quiet cheer when the wheels finally moved against the grime.

Crake walked a few paces ahead, gun up and aimed at each corner.

"Come on, Angel," his words soft as he beckoned for her to follow.

Felicity too spoke words of encouragement through the echo-comm, and Lawrence only wept.

She could do this. She had to do this.

Nyx pixelated back, “this way” and threw an arm overhead as he led them down a hall to the right. They made their way down two more passages before they heard another explosion. Tania's men were catching up, if they didn't escape soon, they'd be trapped in the holding cells.

Nyx stayed ahead, pixelating beyond walls to see what lay ahead and lasering down doors that blocked their path.

"We will never make it to the cargo halls!" Felicity implored, "Crake do we have any grenades?"

He shook his head.

"Tania's men do," Angel whispered.

"No, Angel," Felicity warned.

Crake, however, was intrigued, "What do you have in mind?'

"Let them come to us. I can use my powers to hack into their weapons. Make an explosion big enough to get us out of here. We're already at the base of the ship, no point going through the back door when we can make our own."

"If they've changed over to analog weapons, it won't work," Felicity stressed.

"Well, it doesn't need to be one of their weapons." Angel accessed Lawrence's gear-chip and found his corrosive sniper.

Crake frowned, "he'd kill you if you used that."

Angel couldn't care less, but she heeded Crake's advice and sought out another weapon, yet, she found something better.

"Lawrence's shield is electric."

Angel looked up at the roof towards the water system then back to Crake.

"Flood the halls."

A wicked grin grew on his face, "atta girl."

"No!" Felicity cried, "Angel if you lose control you could take out everything around you, not just that shield but Timothy's gear chip, the rest of his weapons. Even the watch. You risk damaging Nyx and Crake."

Crake called over his shoulder as he worked on releasing the water system above. "Didn't think you cared, sweetheart."

Felicity made an irritated noise. Crake smugly turned back to his work.

"We've got a plan," Angel whispered to Lawrence as she returned to his side. His skin was ghastly pale, drenched in sweat. He only shuddered and quietly wheezed as he drew sharp, heavy breaths.

"Ok, done. Watch your head," Crake called.

Angel responded in time to miss the water flushing down from the ceiling. She beamed over to Crake, satisfied with the pooling water, she pulled off a loose wall panel and hid the shield behind it. Lastly, she returned to Lawrence and pushed the table to the far end of the hall and around another corner. Keeping him safe from all eyes or any stray bullets which may come their way.

"Angel the battery is failing, we're not going to be around for much longer," Nyx stressed as he followed behind her.

She bit her lip, "she's coming for me. I know it. This won't take long."

Nyx made a worried noise as he caught up with them.

"Stay with him, please?" Angel went to rest a hand against Nyx, only for it to brush through him. He glanced at her hand before he nodded his head.

"Its gonna be ok buddy." Angel heard him whisper as she took off down the hall towards Crake, and soon, Tania and her men.

Dahl ships did not make for quiet conveying the heavy combat boots of Tania's unit could be heard before their voices.

Crake stood alert, stance wide and the gun aimed at the corner, "you ready, kid-ah-Angel?" He stammered at his correction.

Angel felt very Pandoran at that moment and smiled alongside him, "yes."

Stretching her arm out, Angel pushed her mind forward to locate the shield stashed inside the broken wall unit. 

The beating of footsteps stopped before they reached the water. Angel's heart moved frantically in her chest as she waited. When Tania finally spoke, she physically shuddered.

"Angel, you're at a dead end, the exit to the cargo halls was at the last east exit."

Crake looked murderous, he kept a hand in front of Angel, shielding her from any onslaught that could turn the corner.

"Go get her," Tania's voice chilled the air as she commanded her men to move forward.

Crake rounded on Angel, his eyes wide, he mouthed to her, 'you ready?'

She nodded. The sounds of sloshing water approached, Angel's mind entered the shield, and she activated the shock response.

The water in front of them sparked alive, the screams of a dozen men ricocheted off the walls. Angel held the shock response on till the battery fried, with it drained came the sound of their crippled bodies splashing into the water. Not long after the air was tainted with burnt flesh.

"The shield is down!" Tania's enraged voice screeched from around the corner.

Angel mouthed a curse word, of course, Tania would not come for her first. She was a bully and coward; just like Jack.

"With me," she fumed to her men.

Angel threw a wild-eyed look at Crake. He steadied himself and kept his aim straight ahead. "Angel go back to-"

He was cut off, his frame began to flicker, "oh f-ck" He disappeared in a burst of pixels.

"Crake!"

Angel reached for where he had been moments earlier, yet her hand met only static and emptiness. She was alone, and Tania and her escort were a bend away from reaching her. Water sloshed, and ripples began to appear, soon after the shadow of Tania and her men appeared on the surface.

Angel kept her stance wide, just like Crake and raised her arm aimed ahead. She just needed one weapon, anything with software for her to hack. She searched, letting her mind feel the atmosphere for something to latch onto; nothing.

A bullet flew off the wall, and Angel released a panicked yelp.

Someone charged forward, "you sick little shit, you killed everyone! You did this!"

"Do not shoot! do not shoot the damn Siren, you idiots," Tania's voice threatened as she waded forward.

Not knowing what to do, Angel pressed her mind, her being, her energy forth. The tattoos on her arm were alight.

"Angel there is nothing for you to hack!" Tania yelled, upon seeing the whites of her markings light the walls.

The man turned the corner, closely followed by two others and finally, Tania her self.

Angel felt a sudden rage, something primal she'd never felt before. Not even amidst Jack did she fight back, never to expose her true feelings towards him. Tania's men flexed their grips over their weapons as they aimed down their scopes.

"Angel, it's over. Do not fight back."

"No," she seethed as she began to feel an intoxicating pressure build. Angel found herself able to hold the mass in the space ahead. As if the air were made of water, she could touch it, contain it, even move it. She collected what she could, built the pressure together before she drove her arm forward releasing it all.

The results were catastrophic.

Everything blasted forth, Angel was thrown onto her back. The wind knocked right out of her, she gasped as she tried to heave the air back into her lungs. She crawled on her side, weeping, it felt like her blood had turned to sluggish ice. Angel pulled herself up, crawling back on her hands and knees. Desperate to get away from the destruction she had caused.

Everything was gone. The hallway was completely torn apart, a gaping hole bore into one of the walls, the water had been flushed down to the very end of the passage. The men were in pieces. Blood stretched across the floor as if their bodies had been dragged twenty metres.

Angel struggled to breathe as she assessed the devastation. How she had managed it was beyond her, she crawled away until her back hit the far wall. Angel closed her eyes, she'd killed them all. Torn everything, every one apart. Tania was right, destruction was all she knew, it was all her powers allowed her to do.

She pressed her head into her arms and cried. She'd been trying to hold everything back, only to let quiet tears slip down her face. Now she was a broken, a lost child with too much power. She wailed into her blood-soaked sleeves.

What had she done?

"Come here, you wretched girl!" A depraved voice hissed.

Angel shot her eyes open in time to find Tania before her. Firm hands latched onto her sweater and flung her to the ground. Angel sobbed as she rolled over. Tania stood above, her palm against her waist, holding back the blood.

"I've seen a Siren in action before, I know when to expect a Phase Strike," her voice was unhinged and venomous.

Tania raised her leg and drove it down over Angel's stomach, winding her once again. A brutal punch landed across her face. Tania lept down and straddled across her waist, she yanked Angel up by the front of her sweater, so their faces were inches apart.

"I know what it feels like to lose. So, I'll make this swift."

Another blow hit Angel across the cheek, she scratched and struggled against her attacker. Tania's assault was relentless, only when she stopped fighting did she let Angel fall back to the ground. Her arms laid useless at her sides. She was so tired, so weak, all energy spent in the blast she had created.

Unable to move or fight back, Angel sought again for something to hack. Something on Tania to activate, yet all she found was Lawrence's and her own gear-chip. Angel let a weak smile grace her bloodied lips, she enabled the gear-chip and summoned Lawrence's sniper.

"I hope you haven't forgotten what it feels like to lose." Angel spat up at her captor as the sniper appeared on the floor beside them.

Tania instinctively reached for it, just as Angel expected. She allowed her mind to enter the weapon, from there, she discharged a round. The bullet hit the wall beside them showering the corrosive fluid up and around them. Tania screamed as the spray landed on her. Angel being prepared, shielded herself and curled away from the splashback. Tania being on top took the worst of the damage.

Tania clawed at her arms, desperate to tear her coat away as the material burnt into her skin. Angel began to wiggle upwards, out from under the woman as she bellowed and howled as her flesh seared away.

"No!" Tania rasped and latched onto Angel's ankle.

"You crazy bitch!"

Angel kicked back, striking her in the jaw. Tania held a hand to her face and spat away the blood. Angel was on her feet and backing away. She could run, she could flee right now. The way was open, she'd blasted it out, and Tania was down.

But to leave now meant leaving behind the others.

Angel's mind went back to Lawrence, and with it, the anger surged forward. Her nails dug into her palms as she stalked back towards Tania. Angel thought of the pain he'd endured, the suffering this depraved woman had bestowed on him for days and then Angel did something that only the daughter of Handsome Jack could have done.

Something vicious, just like her father.

Angel charged forward and threw the woman to the ground, landing her into the pool of corrosive fluid. Angel pressed her face into the green solution, Tania screamed and kicked, like a gutted animal. Angel sobbed as her hands began to burn from the splashback.

"Angel!" Felicity called, "ANGEL!"

She was gasping for air, her world span as she pried herself away from the other woman.

"Angel, it's time to go."

Tania bucked and hissed her way from the melted floor.

"Angel!" Felicity begged her to move.

"I-I..." She stuttered.

What had she done? Angel could only watch in horror with wide eyes at the damage she’d caused. Tania was dry heaving, crying as she held a hand to her ruined face. She continued to crawl back into the water and down the hall.

"Angel, please, you must go," Felicity spoke gently, "please, go now."

Angel pulled herself up, her legs and arms trembled as she watched Tania inch away. With shaken breaths she turned and staggered back down the hall, stopping twice to regain her strength as she leaned against the wall.

"Crake, Nyx," Angel called weakly, forgetting they could not come to her aid without her assistance. She heaved herself off the wall and limped down the hallway. Lawrence was out cold again, the watch still safely on his wrist. Angel raised her hand and entered the code, red and blue came to her aid.

"ANGEL!" Nyx ran to her side, his hands wrapped around her face, his mouth opened uselessly before he spoke. "What the hell happened? Your hands!"

Angel looked down, the blisters were already splitting across her palms and wrists. The skin raw and red from holding Tania's face against the floor.

"You need a health kit, like, right now."

"No," Crake interjected, "we must save them for Tim."

"No way!" Nyx rounded on his brother, "look at her hands!"

"Crake is right," Angel mumbled as she pushed her chest into the table and tried to move it with her weight.

"We have a way out," as she heaved against the table.

"How?!"

Felicity answered for her, she was so tired. Her legs were barely able to support herself.

"Angel opened the way. It seems she has a new power to master."

Nyx's expression beamed, "awesome."

Angel swayed her head, she did not feel Nyx's enthusiasm. She had no idea what she had done and whatever it was, her power only seemed to destroy.

"Where is she?" Crake snarled, he pixelated far ahead, weapon aimed down the hall.

All that remained of Tania was her burnt fleshed corroded into the grated flooring.

"I let her go," Angel muttered as she picked up Lawrence's sniper and led them down the hall.

* * *

They were alone in the dust, nothing but endless sand stretched ahead, and a handful of mountains on the horizon.

Lawrence was passed out beside her, his head in her lap the rest of him on top of a tarp she'd found in the cargo halls. She'd dragged him out of that horrible place. Angel's hands bled at her sides, the blisters were torn open, and her palms were cut to pieces.

The ship behind them was gone, a camouflage veil shielded it from their eyes. Hidden from view but not in her thoughts. She kept replaying their escape over, and over. How she blasted Tania's men to pieces, shoved her face into the corrosive pool.

She could have left Tania, but she chose to stay. A stifled cry left her throat as she hung her head. She had wanted to inflict as much pain as she could on her. What did that make her? How could she judge Jack after what she did?

Angel waited helplessly, Tania's men would only need walk down the cargo ramp and find them just beyond a few sand dunes. With nowhere to run, they could only wait.

An empty silence met them, the wind stirred the sand and Angel buried her head against her chest to shield her from the dust. She'd failed, they were going to die out here. Tania was right, killing remained what she was capable off, and nothing else. Nyx rested his head on her shoulder, and the rest of him laid hunched up next to her. She silently cried as the static and warmth from the blue digistruct surged over her. Despite the Pandora's sun radiating down on them, Angel felt cold, feverish. All energy spent when she blasted her way out of that hell.

Crake remained beside Lawrence, he leaned over him, one hand over his chest protectively.

No one said a word. They could only wait.

Angel shifted her gaze down and over Lawrence, she watched him painful stir. His bruised and swollen eyes pried open as he tried to speak. He was barely audible, his entire mouth was stained red.

“Don’t give...it to me…Don’t let a-any of them do it. L-let me go...if you have to.”

“Give you what?” Angel asked slowly, her voice was hoarse and sounded foreign to her own ears.

No one answered her, yet Crake nodded his head, knowingly. Moving his other hand closer to Lawrence.

A low hum was swept over the dune, the sound caught on the wind. Something was approaching.

Nyx pixelated from her side and reappeared on top of the hill, "there's a caravan approaching!" he called back down to them.

Nyx began to wave, and Angel felt hope blossom inside her.

Athena, the Vault Hunter from Elips, emerged a top of the sand dune, she marched down. Her heavy footsteps causing the sand to ripple around her.

"Let's go."

* * *

It was chaos.

They loaded Lawrence onto the floor of the caravan. Miss Springs was at the wheel urging the rig on, cursing when it didn’t switch gears fast enough. Everyone was yelling, the combined effort of the engine and Lawrence's screaming made any conversation without raised voices impossible. Crake had briefly spoken to Athena, he relayed Lawrence's condition, Angel missed what was said on account of Lawrence's cries. From there, she took control.

The gladiator yelled at Angel to find the med box as she threw off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves.

“I need a scalpel!”

“Babe we don't have anything like that!” Springs yelled over from the driver's seat.

“I can help,“ Crake moved forward and revealed a beam of light in his hand.

Athena was on her knees, she hovered over Lawrence. Crake followed suit.

“You need to open here and here” she dragged a gloved hand across Lawrence's stomach, all while trying to pry his hands away.

“What! You're cutting him open!” Angel ran back over with the med box under her arm.

“Heads up, this is going to be bad,” Athena warned while taking the box away from Angel.

“Honey I'm not sure you should see this,” Springs chimed in, she tried to keep her tone light. An impossible feat considering the situation.

“No, she needs to stay, I need you both to hold him down. Janey find us a place to park, this can’t wait.”

“Don't go,” Lawrence rasped to Angel.

“I’m not going to, I won't go, ok?” she cried back to him.

The caravan began to slow, a sharp corner was taken. Springs filled the rig with curses as a long hanging cactus scratched the roof.

“I'm sorry,” Lawrence cried as he reached for Angel's hand, he groaned as the movement caused his skin to open. Something stuck out, but Angel pulled her gaze away, she kept her eyes focused on his.

She squeezed his hand.

“I told them everything," he choked, and blood spilled from his chapped lips.

"Everything...I told them everything” Lawrence rolled his eyes back, barely focusing on her face but he kept his grip tight.

“Lawrence none of it matters, Its ok, you're ok, that's what’s important.”

“I’m sorry, I didn't want to, I swear I didn’t want to, I swear...” his words were slurring with every repeated phrase. "They made me."

"I know," she tried to hush him.

“Jack...he doesn't know” he finally said before his eyes fluttered shut. “I didn't tell, him, I spoke to him, but I still, I didn't tell him.”

"They made me...I'm sorry."

"Lawrence?"

“He's in shock, leave him.” Athena’s sharp words cut her away from him. “You need to press your weight onto his arms, we have no anesthesia or anything to knock him out. He’s going to fight back.”

Angel did as she was instructed when the caravan finally stopped Springs joined their sides. Nyx stood at the back, his hands running feverishly through his hair while Crake kneeled beside Athena at Lawrence's waist.

“Do it now,” Athena commanded.

Crake raised a single finger and lowered where Athena had shown him where to cut. A thin thread of light emitted from Crake’s digit, it shot down into Lawrence. Crake moved his hand across, and Lawrence's stomach split open. Blood gushed outwards, and he screamed. Angel pressed down on his left shoulder, Springs on his right and Athena held his legs.

Lawrence cursed, he called them all kinds of vile things. He tried to buck, but whatever was pinned into his arms and legs pained him to move. His grip curled over Angel's hand, his blunt nails dug into her burnt flesh. Angel sobbed as she struggled with the pain, but she didn't pry him off her.

When Crake was done Athena released his legs and pulled at the perfectly straight cut.

Angel had to turn away for this part, so did Springs. They could hear Athena’s hands pressing against something wet. Lawrence screamed, his voice hoarse and blood sprayed from his throat. His grip on Angel's palm caused her to wince and cry.

“Got it,” Athena exclaimed, which was immediately followed by Lawrence shrieking.

Angel turned back, stunned, as Athena pulled something dripped in blood, and clinging onto flesh up from Lawrence's abdomen.

Barbed wire.

Lawrence started hyperventilating, his chest spasmed. Nonetheless, he pried his head up. He only had a chance to glance at it before he fell back down.

He coughed and sprayed blood all down Angels front, "w..what..." The words choked between the pooling of blood in his mouth. "Wh...is...it?"

Lawrence was out before anyone could reply and Angel was thankful she need not spell out the sight before her. Athena held the piece of wire up, and everyone else looked at it with a morbid sense of curiosity.

“There’ll be two more pieces here, and then one piece in each of his limbs, embedded into the muscle.”

Springs leaned over and threw up.

“How do you know that?” Crake hissed, voice unhinged.

“I just do."

“You're animals, you know that?

Athena said nothing to that.

Angel couldn't take her eyes off him, Lawrence's eyelids shook as if his brain was unsure whether to stay conscious or to drift off. All the colour had left his skin, he was paler than her.

Crake cut open his calves and Athena proceeded to remove more of the metal wire grafted against the tissue. Janey dry retched a few more times, but nothing came back up. Nyx had fled back into the watch, Angel begged him to stay, but the blue digistruct just shook his head and left her side.

Athena found a staple gun in the large box of assorted items against the back wall. She closed the wounds and shoved a health-kit into him. She used the last of the organ-damage kits into his chest and stomach, the holes slowly began to stitch back together.

They only needed to remove the wire in his left arm, on Angel’s side, when, Lawrence woke back up. His expression dark, contorted as he took, in short, stifled breaths. He was mouthing a word over and over, yet all that spilled out was blood. Angel leaned in trying to hear what he was saying, but all he managed was choking sounds.

Crake sliced his arm open, and Lawrence tilted his head into the floor and cried. Athena sought the wire out and declared she was done, she stapled up his arm and delivered the final health-kit dosage.

Angel ran a hand over the side of his face gently trying to encourage a response from him.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell Tania you were my friend,” Angel sobbed. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you earlier."

The only noise was his rattled breathing, blood clogged his lungs, even though his chest barely moved the sound was deafening. The shock from before was washing away. Tears welled in her eyes as reality settled in.

They had torn wire from his body. They had ripped him open, just like her mother, he was going to be taken away.

“Lawrence?” she whispered.

No one else dared to speak.

Angel turned his hand over in hers, his fingers were limp over her palm. She squeezed his hand, hoping for an answer; there was none.

She reiterated his name, but it left with a dry sob. "Lawrence, please?"

His breathing became more ragged, his lips only just parted to let the air in. He mouthed something to her again, Angel cried, she had no idea what he was trying to say to her.

"I-I don't know," she squeezed his shoulders. "Please," she begged him to hold on. To stay with her.

But to Angel’s horror she realised he was no longer fighting back. He rested his head against her, his gaze was strained with worry and regret. A longer breath than the others was taken in and then slowly let out, his eyes went wide, and then he stopped. He stopped breathing.

His eyes stared back up at her, void of anything.

“Lawrence?” she tried again, but he didn’t move or speak.

“His heart has gone into pre-death contractions,” Crake choked on his words.

“Wh-what!?”

Angel’s  eyes darted along his body, there was so much blood. It had soaked up to her knees and was splattered against her chest and arms.

Springs rested a bloody hand on her shoulder, her expression anguished as she looked Angel's way.

"I'm sorry, darling, I'm so, so sorry."

They had escaped Handsome Jack together. Fought through his influence, fled across Pandora. He wasn't going to die at the hands of that depraved woman.

"No," Angel muttered.

She couldn't explain how she knew the path to take, It was as if spurring her powers alive had awoken something new in her. A piece of knowledge she never possessed. Angel accessed her gear-chip and retrieved the Eridium, the syringe fell into her hands. The Eridium inside the chamber remained crystalised, but Angel knew this did not matter.

"Angel, its crystallised. You can't use that," Crake reasoned, his hand was over Lawrence's with the watch.

"I can."

The tattoos on her arm came alive, and she felt a surge of warmth and control overcome her as she let her mind wander over the Eridium. The crystals cracked, and with a vibrant glow, they melted into a liquid substance.

Janey made a panicked noise, and Athena just looked on in wide-eyed awe.

There was only a quarter of a vial left, but if it was enough to restore the blood loss, then it could be enough to save him; stabilise him until they got back to Hollow Point.

“Angel," Crake leaned closer to Lawrence as he spoke. "He doesn't want it” he reasoned at her to stop. “You don't understand, it will make things worse for him.”

"There was a time when I didn't want it either and, yet, he gave it to me all the same."

"Angel!"

She didn’t listen to him, she drove the needle into Lawrence's heart and delivered the dosage.

Nothing happened.

Angel was breathless, she clutched the vial tighter as if holding on would somehow release more Eridium into him.

Crake’s jaw was tight, his lips in a thin line. When he gave her no update, she pressed him.

“He has a regular heartbeat,” he finally said.

Angel flung herself over Lawrence's chest, she rested her head down and heard it slow, spaced out, but it was there.

Athena sighed, and Janey gave a very quiet cheer. When Angel pulled herself away, Crake was watching her intently, his eyes refusing to shift away from hers. She bowed her head, she could deal with the fallout later.

She saved his life, she got them out of that place. They were going to be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter is the end of the first part of this fic. Consider this the mid-season finale! I'll be taking a short hiatus for a few weeks as I map out the last scenes in a few chapters and wrap up my finals/portfolios for uni.
> 
> Comments make my day shine :3 and I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** )
> 
> ### Author Q:
> 
> **Did Angel go too far? lol Did this chapter stress you out as much as it stressed me to write it?**   
>  _Leave your answer in the comments!_   
> 
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A drug that appears to affect the mind; details unknown.


	25. Becoming Jack Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UNI IS DONE, AND I AM BACK :3

“It's coming on."

Jack's call pulled Lawrence away from the fridge.

"I don't know when but soon, my head is splitting."

Wiping the strawberry shake from his lips, Lawrence closed the door, but not before hiding away the open drink. Jack despised this habit of his - drinking from the bottle - however, Jack didn't need to down a litre of protein shakes a day.

“I’ve still got a bunch of pain meds Autohn gave me, you know the real good stuff for my face an all,” Lawrence called back when evidence of his habit was left unseen.

“You sly dog, how long have you been holding on to those?”

Lawrence walked over and leaned against the island bench, Jack was collapsed on the couch, his hands splayed across his masked face.

"Oh you know," Lawrence idly played with the hem of his sweater. “Just waiting for a rainy day," he delivered a crooked smile towards Jack. "Or for my housemate to get punched in the face with a vault artifact, that leaves him with regular crippling pain and delusions.”

“They’re not delusions,” Jack reminded, his tone already growing dark. “Just memories…”

“I’ll get the drugs and tea,” Lawrence pulled himself away.

“Tea?”

Lawrence called over his shoulder as he made for the kettle. "Yeah, whenever you get locked in old memories you’re obsessed with tea." He paused, and the last comment left him as a whisper, "It's kinda cute.”

“Call me cute again, _I dare you._ ”

Lawrence scoffed, and his neck grew warm knowing Jack _always_ heard everything. He returned a few minutes later with the pain meds (which he had hidden away under the carpet), Jack wasn't thrilled with his continued drug and substance abuse unless the abuse was a joint collaboration. However, Lawrence found himself relying less and less on the medication and the bottle, things had been good. Life had an upbeat rhythm, it was chaotic, everything with Jack was, but his life had security and a warmth to it that hadn't been there before. They both worked relentlessly, he took pride in his work, securing a new deal and eliminating the competition was Lawrence’s new intoxication, it was invigorating. They celebrated the good times, and when things went south, they always had Friday Firing time to unleash the weeks pent up anger.

Lawrence was content.

He fetched the tea and returned to Jack on the couch. The violet glow of the vault mark shone brightly through his hands, the mask was unclipped and tossed to the floor. As Lawrence approached Jack pried his hands away, revealing the intensity of the mark of the Vault. Purple shone across the couch and walls, radiating slowly in time with the rise and fall of his chest.

“There you are, Timmy.”

Lawrence's hand spasmed, his heart rammed up his throat, and his breathing choked from his lips. The mug fell from his grasp, he didn't even flinch when it shattered across the floor. He might not have noticed anything at all if it wasn't for the hot contents burning up his leg.

“Look what you've done dum dum,” Jack sighed and waved at the broken mug on the floor.

Lawrence didn't move, not even to look at the mess he'd just made. His mind was spinning, trying to render what he'd just heard. Jack must have made a mistake, this was a slip-up, nothing more.

_Jack doesn't call you by your name._

Lawrence feverishly dug his nails into his palms and turned away to fetch another mug.

"Tim, leave it, come back here."

The floor was ripped from his feet, Lawrence stumbled as he heard his name again. He could only count his blessings that he’d already turned his back to Jack as the expression on his face was no doubt offputting and drowned in shock. Lawrence bit his lip, a habit he never allowed Jack to see before he slowly turned back around.

“What even was that, tea?" Jack delivered him a bewildering look, eyebrows arched as he studied Lawrence up and down.

Lawrence quickly drew a breath and relaxed his composure, trying to bury the explosion of emotions running rampant in his chest.

"Tim?!" Jack's tone turned sharp, as he tilted his head to the side. Lawrence slowly swallowed down the bile in his throat, realising he'd not said a word since Jack first uttered his name. He should say something, yet, only dread bubbled inside him. It wanted to burst at the seams, and all Lawrence could do to contain it was to struggle at the hems of his jumper.

Jack sighed heavily, “stop fretting, you look like an abandoned kitten in the damn rain, come here.”

Lawrence silently obeyed.

He cautiously stepped around the shattered ceramics and approached Jack on the couch. However, the moment Lawrence was within an arm's reach, Jack snagged him by his jumper and pulled him on top of him. Lawrence's legs hung awkwardly off the floor, and he kept his elbows at his sides, allowing himself to hover above Jack's chest.

Jack made a pleased sound as his tattooed arm snaked its way across Lawrence's back, locking them together.

“What’s got you so flustered, cupcake?” Jack words ran hot over Lawrence's neck. Stirring a shiver from the double.

“When…ah when did you...” Lawrence cleared his throat, he'd not fumbled his words like this in a long time. “When did you start calling me that name?”

“Cupcake? I call everyone that, so don’t get so attached.”

Lawrence bit this inside of his lip, the gesture made Jack's eyes trail down over his face and linger over his mouth.

“No...not that," Lawrence spoke slowly, letting each word leave him with careful precision so not to stir the hurricane forever raging inside Jack.

"When did you start calling me by my..." he was going to say 'real name', but that wasn't the right word. Jack wouldn't like that. Lawrence continued to worry his lip, causing Jack's eyes to narrow.

"...by my old name?”

Jack pulled his weight onto his elbows and shifted himself up dragging his body underneath Lawrence.

“Why are you acting so fricken weird? It's cute I’ll admit it," Jack paused, his face turned dark. "Timmy," Jack spoke his name as a warning, "are you high again?"

"What? No, no, I'm not." He hurriedly explained, anything to stop Jack's storm from pouring forth.

Jack raised his thumb to Lawrence's chin and guided him up, their bi-coloured eyes met, and Lawrence noted how smooth Jack's expression remained. The mark of the Vault radiated it's natural violet glow, pulsing in line with Jack's breathing, which was surprisingly slow and steady.

The initial shock of his hearing his name had pulled all reason from Lawrence's mind. He cursed his stupidity; Jack was in one of his Eridium trances. Therefore locked in his memories. This was not the same Jack who was on the couch ten minutes ago. As Lawrence studied the purple glow below him, he tried to recall when, or if ever, Jack had called him by his name.

When Jack had first approached Lawrence all those years ago as a lowly ‘fake’ programmer, he'd only ever called him 'timtams' or kiddo. When Lawrence became, his double 'Timtam' was left by the wayside, and 'other jack' and 'other me' became the norm.

There was no Timothy Lawrence. No Tim, or Timmy. He had no name other than Handsome Jack.

This couldn't be the past, Lawrence concluded.

No, this was another memory, something new, something nor Jack or he had experienced yet. Lawrence felt his own breathing quicken. This was a future Jack, where Lawrence was 'Tim' again, and as Jack pressed himself against Lawrence, he concluded this was at a time when they were no longer just housemates.

He should leave, Jack was not himself. No good would come of this.

Yet Lawrence couldn't pull himself away, the look of profoundly rooted affection across Jack's face was endearing. Not at all like the pure lust and heated narcissism he had cast his way all that time ago in the shooting range.

Jack drifted closer, and Lawrence followed suit, pressing his weight into him, and pulling his feet off the floor. Lawrence couldn't extinguish the small gasp when Jack's lips met his throat. Soft wet kisses worked their way over his exposed flesh, and Lawrence did nothing to discourage the affection.

"Timmy, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Jack's voice was an absurd mix of warning and warmth against his throat.

He should really leave.

Yet, Lawrence was selfish, and he ignored Jack's words in favour of attention, and when Jack stopped his line of questioning, he smiled against Jack's cheek. Lawrence dragged himself across Jack, aligning himself with Jack's kisses, releasing a gratifying sound when Jack worked against him. He didn't stop there, and Lawrence felt Jack's breathing grow sharp and impatient, his hands exploring lower, skimming under the back of his jeans and burrowing into his flesh.

Jack whispered his name again, his real name, 'Timothy' before he pressed his lips to Lawrence's.

And he kissed back.

Lawrence's mind sparked and almost cut to black, he'd not been kissed like this, dammit, he couldn't even recall when the last time someone had held him and kissed him in such a way. It was before Jack, before Hyperion. He melted into the warmth and gentleness of it all. Falling into Jack’s chest, letting their bodies merge together. Jack made a pleased sound as Lawrence dragged his weight up and over Jack’s crotch.

 _Fuck_ , it was well too long since anything like this had happened. Escorts didn't really cut it when all of them were women and only graced his bed for a moment.

Jack's hand pulled away eliciting a soft complaint from Lawrence at the removed touch.

"Lemme see your hand," each word left him between swift pecks to Lawrence's lips.

Jack pressed his fingers into Lawrence's tightly clenched palm and turned it upright, prying it open. He parted his lips from Lawrence, trailing his eyes downwards, and Lawrence followed his gaze.

“Our scars. Didn't think you'd ever forget that..." Jack started with a wolfish smile, though, as he stared at Lawrence's open hand his expression turned confused, then bitter.  

Nothing but smooth skin stared up at them, there was no scar on Lawrence's hand.

Jack snatched his grip away and raised his own palm to his face.

"Where is it?" He growled as he ran his fingers over his open hand and then over Lawrence's.

 _Fuck,_ Lawrence mentally cursed. He'd let this drag on too long, pushed Jack too far into a future memory. Causing him to recall things that were yet to happen. He'd been warned not to let this occur. He pulled himself up and away from Jack.

Jack only shuddered and hissed as the mark of the vault burned brightly, "I don't understand," he seethed through clenched teeth.

Lawrence's pulled the packet of pain-meds from his pocket and passed it to Jack, "take these, you'll feel better."

Jack just continued to stare at Lawrence's open palm.

"Come on," Lawrence sighed and pressed them further towards Jack. "Take them."

Lawrence only relaxed when Jack took the drugs and rested back onto the couch. It didn't take long for the other man to drift off, the mark of the vault persisted to pulse, but at least Jack could sleep the rest of it out. Lawrence leaned off the edge of the couch and buried his head in his hands. His mind raced as he tried to process his own and Jack's confusion. He lowered his right arm and inspected his hand. There was undoubtedly no scar on his palm and no scar on Jack's.

He'd been so convinced they both had one. A future memory Lawrence reminded himself, therefore future scars.

The familiar buzz of his echo was reason enough to sideline these thoughts for another time. Lawrence lived in the present, their future can wait.

He pulled the device out, his lips pressed together as he spied the massive warning planted across the screen.

_UNAUTHORIZED DEPARTURE: DOCK 12.54_

_OCCUPANT: Jack 2.0_

Lawrence made a pleased sound. Now, this was a good distraction. So the newly created Jack thinks he can flee? Three months in and the guy was already making a break for it.

Lawrence was already up and equipping his holster and checking his gear chip. He connected his echo to Nisha.

"Handsome."

Lawrence drew wicked smile across his face. Nisha's voice had risen at the end. It was almost a question, an air of uncertainty as too which Jack was calling her.

"It's the second half," Lawrence promptly replied.

Nisha huffed on the line, "I know that."

"How do you feel like a hunting trip?"

"Oh, very much so. Everyone has been too well behaved, and without disobedience, there can be no punishments. See my predicament?"

Lawrence messaged the docks and organised a ride to Pandora.

"So, what are we hunting?"

Lawrence hummed back. "A Jack."

"Oh, goodie," Nisha purred, and Lawrence could practically envision her face aglow with a wild sense of pleasure.

* * *

Lawrence took the steps three at a time to reach their office, his arms swung restlessly at his sides, heart elevated, and the rest of his body shook with a feverish high.

His hunting trip had resulted in a rare find.

Lawrence pressed two firm hands against the double doors and eased them open. At the far end of the dark office, Jack's silhouette was against the fiery cracks of Elips. He was leaning against the font of his desk, legs stretched out and arms crossed, his voice raised. No doubt the occupant in the chair in front of him was on the receiving end of his rage.

It took a moment for Jack to realise Lawrence had entered, and he snapped at his double.

"You missed Friday Firing. Twice, it's been two weeks. How does it take two weeks to find an idiot?!"

"Sorry," Lawrence chimed back in a tone he knew Jack would not appreciate and shrugged his shoulders.

"Did-did you just come straight from the Dust!? you're a goddamn mess."

"Yeah, and this thing is killing me," Lawrence raised a hand to his jaw and removed the clasp on his chin.

“What are you? Stop! Don’t you dare-,” Jack hissed his eyes darted to the occupant in the chair and then back to Lawrence.

Lawrence ignored him. Running around the Dust didn't include regular showers or time to shave, and currently, his stubble was grating away at his skin from under the mask. Lawrence placed two hands on the side of his head and removed the clasps and lowered the synthetic flesh away. He leaned his head back and released a sigh of relief, feeling finally free.

"Bloody hell, when was the last time you shaved? Or showered?"

Lawrence started to walk the length of the room. The acoustics were exceptional, and they could have continued their conversation from either side of the office, yet Lawrence hadn't seen Jack in weeks.

"Not enough room in my gear chip for a buzzer and a mirror, and I'm not fond of the idea of a blade in Nisha's hands. Would you trust her with a knife on your throat?"

Jack's expression gave him the answer he already knew.

“Get rid of him, I’ve got something to show you,” Lawrence urged as he waved to the man in front of Jack.

The Hyperion employee whimpered, a likely combination of hearing a second Jack and how carelessly they both regarded his life.

You fuck up, and you're replaced.

Lawrence learned it the hard way, the skin on the back of his neck itched at the thought. However, here he was, he'd made it and if other Hyperion employees couldn't keep up so be it.

Jack drew a sharp breath, “I was about to, dammit, I was working up to it, you know I had this whole monologue planned. Going on about his shortcomings. I was going to give him some glimmer of hope that he may get out of this, only to crush it, it was going to be glorious.”

Lawrence sighed and strode up to Jack, he walked past the man in the chair and leaned beside his other half. The look on the employee's face was priceless, it always was when they saw two Jack's. Sure there were plenty of rumours Jack had doubles, but no one ever saw the two of them together like this.

Unless it was Firing Firing time.

"You better do it quick, I think this guy is gonna piss himself," Lawrence paused, "another reason why I stopped sitting in that chair. Gross."

"I keep offering for you to sit in my lap," Jack's voice was sly as he budged his shoulder into Lawrence's.

“Just get it over with.”

“You totally ruined my monologue.”

Jack stretched his legs out and rolled his shoulders before he glanced at the mess Lawrence had trailed in with.

“Well, you’ve already dragged dust all through here, may as well do it the old fashion way, gotta send the cleaning bots in any way.

Jack hummed and picked up his glass. He took a sip before he gave the man his last words. “Spoiler alert: you screwed up, we can skip the part where I give you some hope and dive straight into the part where you die.”

Lawrence removed his pistol from his holster and killed the man. Clean shot in the head and another in the heart. Jack cheered before he promptly dismissed the dead ex-employee and gave Lawrence his attention.

“Ok, kitten, so what’s so important you had to interrupt my Friday evening firing spree. You found him right?”

Lawrence reasoned he better debrief Jack on his actual objective. He ran a hand over his face, he liked how the stubble felt, if not for the mask he'd tried and convince Jack to grow a beard.

"Nisha and I tracked the double to the edge of the Dust, towards Hollow Point."

"And?"

"Dead."

"I called you, and you confirmed you'd have your fun, but you'd bring him back alive."

"Nah, it wasn't us, the guy was well dead. I mean, if he wasn't, then he was dead when Nisha performed her autopsy," Lawrence grinned. "When we got there. Half his insides were spewing out, someone had tortured him good. Strung him up with wire inside and out."

"Don't test my patience, who killed him?" Jack's voice was dangerously low.

"No idea, but we followed his bloody trail and found an abandoned Atlas station. Nothing of value there, so with the job done Nisha pissed off back to Lynchwood."

"Language, but continue," Jack growled.

"So, I stayed, sniffed around for a bit longer." He gave Jack an endearing smile, one he knew made him look good and allowed him to get away with his snide remarks and cursing.

“Open up the shelf,” Lawrence called as he was practically already over to the far side of the office examining Jack’s wall of various collectables.

“What do you need my stuff for?” Jack called.

“Our stuff,” Lawrence corrected with a grin. He was practically rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He heard Jack sigh, and the protective field in front of the shelving died, Lawrence snatched up the small piece of Atlas tech they’d recovered months prior. It fit perfectly in his hand; red arched metal surrounded a blue orb.

Lawrence practically skipped back to Jack's desk and placed the Atlas tech onto the table. He accessed his gear chip and digitised the document he’d retrieved from the Atlas station. Gingerly he set it next to the Atlas device, like a newly won trophy he stepped back eager for Jack's approval.

Jack cocked a brow at him and snatched the document off the desk, he only had to read the cover of the report for his masked features to screw up into the wildest smirk.

“You!” he cheered and ran around the desk and smacked an eager kiss to Lawrence’s cheekbone, “You handsome son of a taint!”

Lawrence had discovered the Gortys project.

That small piece of Atlas tech they’d miraculously retrieved prior had been sitting in their office for over a year. It's purpose unknown, until now. Lawrence had found the critical information in opening up a Vault; the Vault of the Traveler.

* * *

Jack had insisted on a weekend of celebrations for their new discovery, and he was only just coming down from the bender. Way too many powered things had gone up his nose, and his sinuses felt clogged, a migraine was inches away from claiming his sanity.

Lawrence was moments from dozing off when Jack all but yelled in his ear.

“Got a reward for you!”

Evidence from the clamour in his voice Jack was still going strong with the ‘celebrations’.

“Hmmm?” Lawrence looked up from the couch, drool may have been hanging from his face.

“Please no more amphetamines, I’m done,” Lawrence groaned back into the pillow.

“That's quitters talk," Jack slapped him between the shoulders blades, "but I’ve got something better.”

Jack's words did not spike his attention, and so, Lawrence closed his eyes again and nestled his head into the couch, content on sleeping the rest of the afternoon off. Too many stimulants had killed his appetite, he hadn't eaten all weekend. Maybe Jack would let him have something off menu for dinner, or better yet, convince Jack to bake something.

Jacks hands had found their way to his wrist and were adjusting Lawrence's watch in some manner.

"Mmm, feels nice."

Lawrence's words were muffled by the couch as Jack gently held his hand. It honestly felt good, he wasn't exactly rolling in human contact comforts. Two weeks in the Dust saw to that.

"What are you doing?"

When Jack didn't reply Lawrence opened an eye, yet Jack had finished his ministrations and was now lifting himself off the floor.

“Alright, when I call out, activate the watch.”

“Ok,” Lawrence slurred, sleep still clinging to his speech.

Jack shot up and ran off to his side of the apartment, a moment passed before he could hear his voice yell across the floor.

“Do it now!”

Lawrence ran his thumb over the interface, with an explosion of pixels the two digi-Jacks appeared before him.

“The world just got 25% more handsome!” one of them cheered eliciting an eye roll from Lawrence.

The other remained static as there was no threat for it to charge.

“Ask one of them to patch me in!” Jack called still hiding on the other side of the floor.

“Huh?”

He was too hungover to have a functioning conversation with Jack let alone three of them.

“Say 'patch Jack in',” Jack called again, there was a moments pause before he snorted. "No, no wait! Say 'Jack-it', or 'Jack in'."

“Ok... um, Jack in?”

The cyan Jack fizzled for a moment, pixels sparked at the edge of his frame, with a glitch his posture changed from standing absentmindedly to jolting upright with hands on hips. The digi-Jack wasn’t precisely itself anymore. It now adorned Jack's masks and the clothes Jack was wearing minutes before leaving his living room.

The cyan digi-Jack swivelled on the spot and yelled, “this is so freaking cool, I’m a goddamn genius.” As did Jack’s voice from the other end of the apartment.

“Jack?”

“In the digital flesh,” the digistruct before him sneered and rolled his shoulders back. “Oh man, I don’t get to be the badass?” The now digital-cyan Jack clutched at his heart at looked the magenta digi-Jack up and down.

“Phhht" Lawrence scoffed, "that badass is way more competent than you.”

Jack growled back, “watch your tone kitten. Daddy has two of me now."

Lawrence ignored the feeble threat and pulled himself upright. Jack's digital version began to walk on the spot, yet remain in the same position. Footsteps approached, and Lawrence glanced over his shoulder to see the real Jack approaching in his apartment. Three metal globed devices hovered above Jack’s head, all of them emitted lasers down his body, seemingly recording his movements and expressions.

“Pretty fricken cool huh?” both the digital and real Jack spoke in unison.

“Yeah,” Lawrence agreed.

“Now Nisha can get off my back about not getting any action.”

“From the safety of Helios, I imagine?” Lawrence sneered.

“Hey I‘m the goddamn CEO of a mega-trillion company, can’t get blown up for reals in a shit hole like Pandora.”

Lawrence sighed, “you know…" he chewed the side of his tongue, a nervous tell Jack couldn't see. "I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Jack and the digi-Jack cocked a brow in unison, “yeah and what's that, pumpkin?”

“I want to give them AI” Lawrence gestured to the two digistructs.

“What's wrong with how they are,” Jack's expression lost its smoothness, his tone an accusation against his own brilliance.

As if on cue the magenta badass Jack cheered again, “Drown in a sea of chiselled jaws.”

Even Jack grimaced.

“Ok fair point.” Jack surprisingly dropped his guard as swiftly as it had gone up. Lawrence delivered a sly smile which prompted Jack to further loosen his previous disapproval.

“Think you’re up to it?”

“You forget I was top of my class.”

Lawrence leaned back in the couch. Making sure to flex his muscles, keeping it subtle, but enough so Jack wouldn't miss it. This was his play.

Jack had his own rules, and Lawrence had his way around them. With an endearing grin and a confident stride; Jack would let him get away with anything.

“By community college standards, you forget this Hyperion.”

“Come on, why slaughter my brain with Hyperphire lessons? I can do this.”

Hyperion's own language was a closely guarded secret, only employees at a certain level - ones that had no intention of leaving - were trained in it. It was Jack’s own creation and ever since it was implemented security breaches, and hacks had dropped by over 80%.

Jack had him tutored to inhuman hours of the morning to just get the grasp of it. Two years down the track and now he was finally at a level where an AI project was deemed possible; maybe possible?

Lawrence maintained his pose, his lips pouted in promise, a moments pause spent, and Jack finally sighed.

“Ok, go for it." He crossed his arms bitterly, "can’t wait for you plug in the wrong line and one of these guys shoots you in the face.”

Jack flexed his hands against his hips, "and they’ve still gotta be Jacks! I don’t want my image being destroyed by two wussy AI’s.”

Lawrence laughed, “yeah I’ll base them off your two most charming qualities;  anger and sass.”

The snide remark left his mouth quicker than he had time to process it. Lawrence heart sped as he waited for Jack to pull the plug on the project. Surprising all he got was a ‘fuck off’ in a very not Jack like tone, as the man waved him away.

* * *

************ AI.C8N6.1.25 ************

In the end, Jack did assist Lawrence with his new AI project. The coder prodigy built the AI infrastructure for him to develop upon and occasionally on some of Lawrence's later working nights, Jack popped in to give him a hand with some of the more tiresome pieces.

“Ok, commencing AI.N6.1.25 build,” Lawrence spoke into his log recorder.

The cyan Jack remained motionless.

“Ah, hello?” Lawrence waved a hand in front of the blank digi-jack,

“HI, I AM JACK!”

Lawrence threw himself back against the desk, eyes wide in both shock and amazement that he’d gotten the damn thing to speak. It was a start.

“Oh…sorry, but you are way too enthusiastic,” Lawrence chuckled, “that's got to go.”

This was going to take a while.

************ AI.C8N6.1.74 ************

“Look at my abs!” the cyan-digistruct yelled to no one in particular.

“Be more charming, not so….forward,” Lawrence tried to explain to the digi-Jack.

“Please look at my abs?”

“For fuck's sake.”

“Language,” Jack called from somewhere down the hall.

************ AI.C8N6.2.65 ************

“Do not occupy me with your humanity, your weakness," the badass digistruct didn’t even flinch as the drastic statement left him.

Jack taunted from the doorway, mouth full of pretzels. “Oh bufdy, you are wreally nailing this AI thin, aren’t wou?”

“Fuck off, Jack. I can do this.” Lawrence grounded as he sought a way to tone down the hostility and resentment the magenta AI currently possess.

“Language,” both the AI and Jack corrected him in unison.

“Ok, look you’ve got it recognise swearing, 3/10, good job kiddo.”

Jack congratulated him with a ruffle of his hair.

************ AI.C8N6.4.23 ************

“HOW IT GOES FLESH COUSINS?”

“You broke him,” the magenta badass drawled.

“Yup, definitely broken.” Lawrence agreed with a sigh. He typed away to roll the cyan Jack back to his last version.

“It's better if it's just me, I’ll be the real digital-Jack - and like you - the blue guy here can be the copy,” the badass sneered.

“Perfect, you are like perfect Jack right now. Scarily so” Lawrence spoke not every bothering to look up as he rebuilt the other digi-jack. “But no, he's your digital brother, I think? Whatever, we're fixing him.”

************ AI.C8N6.8.54 ************

“I think I liked him more when he yelled nonsensical things,” the magenta digi-Jack cocked his head to the side and considered his cyan brother.

“Your mum yelled nonsensical things last night when I was-”

Lawrence cut him off, “did you, did you just start to make a joke? A mum joke?”

“Maybe,” the cyan Jack smiled back at him.  

“Ok you are done,” Lawrence beamed.

"Oh we're 'done' now?" the magenta digi-jack leaned into the wall, arms crossed. So far his only expression worth revealing to Lawrence was disdain.

“Congrats kiddo, you made two AI’s that don’t have crippling anxiety about being in forever servitude to humankind," Jack chimed in. "Do you know how hard this is? Seriously so many of them commit digital suicide, or just try to murder you.”

"That's what the AI laws are for." Lawrence tuned from his desk to find Jack in the doorway, his hand was shoved deep into a bag of pretzels.

"How long have you been there?"

"Not long, just seeing how you're doing. So are you going to add their battle components back in? Cause that's the tricky part," Jack gave him a toothy grin.

"Yeah, shouldn't be an issue. Personality modules are done. Just gotta patch them in on top."

Jack eyed him for a moment, and Lawrence was sure he was going to insist he finished the task. Thankfully he did not, Lawrence could not define what it was he felt, but he wanted to see the project to the end.

"Alright guys, see you in a bit." Lawrence gave the two digi-jack a parting smile and began to start his merge.

"Drink?" Jack called as Lawrence typed away in the next set of commands.

"Yeah, cheers" he called as Jack wandered back down the hall.

Lawrence sat back, arms behind his head as he watched the progress bar registering his branch of work was merging into the master file. Jack hadn't returned with their drinks when the program was complete. Lawrence figured he'd see the results soon enough and swiped at the watch.

The two digistructs bloomed into existence.

The magenta badass swivelled on the spot, no doubt assessing the situation, looking for a fight before his eyes landed on Lawrence.

"You're an imposter," The badass deadpanned. His tone was enough to reveal his intention was not friendly.

Lawrence threw himself towards the watch to send them away.

The digi-Jack held his hand out and digistructured a grenade from Lawrence's own gear-chip. Unable to hold the item it fell to the ground, Lawrence's heart raced, he stepped back, body consumed with dread. The grenade interface flashed, the digistruct had hacked it and activated the charge.

"Oh, fuck."

Lawrence threw the door open and bolted down the hall before the explosion claimed everything around him.

* * *

 Jack didn't bother putting the scotch away, he was sure there would be another. Whether it was in celebration of his double's accomplishment or in bitter disappointment, there was no doubt a second drink would be needed.

Coding the AI's should have been child's play, and Lawrence had scarcely proven himself competent at the task. Jack practically coded the entire infrastructure, and his own brain scans were offered up on a silver platter. A weeks task at most and yet the task had dragged on for months.

Though, Jack smiled, an improvement from when he first approached that freckled kid all those years ago.

A faked resumed under his watch? Jack had been livid, eager to throw the young programmer out the door. Yet, an idea had uncoiled inside him upon seeing that young fresh face full of promise. With no ideal candidates yet found for his 'double' program the young Timothy whatever was the best match he had.

Jack swirled his drink, letting the ice dilute down his scotch to the ideal amount. To be honest, shutting down the project had crossed his mind on many occasions. Lawrence had spent too much time locked away in his study to be able to focus on the real task at hand; opening the vault.

Yet, Jack could not deny his double's mood had improved immensely, and so Jack had let it slide. That stupid endearing puppy look he wore on his face was nothing but an eyesore. However, Jack found himself gravitating towards that face. It was different from the stares the other employees gave him; those left him indifferent, while Lawrence’s was both infuriating and charming.

As long as Lawrence had stopped expressing such sappy emotions outside their apartment, Jack was content. A perfect Jack outside these walls and whatever Jack needed him to be inside. Those were his rules.

Jack rolled the tumbler between his hands and gulped it down in one long swig. He made for a second drink when his double yelled something from down the hall, he was cussing again. Another habit that needed to be weeded out. No amount of threats of Ai's, needles and locked apartment doors could contain his Lawrence’s lewd mouth.

It was about time one of those threats was suggested, Jack stood up and that's when the shock wave hit him.

He was thrown to the ground, a wave of smoke and dust crushed down on him, consuming the living room. Jack coughed as he lay flat on his back; winded and dazed. The remnants of the hallway wall were choking his lungs and burning his eyes. He pulled himself up, heaving in gulps of dirt which only resulted in a second coughing spree. A soft amber light was glowing from behind the thick wall of dust.

Jack winced as the alarms descended and blared all around him, it was deafening and drowned out Jack's call to his double. It was only when he waded through clouds of ash and dust that he could see the fire looming at the end of the hall. Both of the walls had crumbled, a steel beam was lodge into the ground, the carpet already hidden under a thick of a layer of dust and his double was nowhere to be seen.

Jack waded through the smoke and ash, coughing into his hand as the magenta hologram approached. The badass lowered its wrist laser and spoke in a voice slightly lower than the default.

“ID confirmed, Handsome Jack.”

“Where’s the friggin’ watch?” Jack barked when a quiet moan attracted his attention, and the pile of rubble moved slowly.

“Tim,” Jack uttered his name with a worried whisper. He dashed forwards and spied the watch hanging in his fingers.

With one hand Jack swiped the digistructs away, while the other was busy digging Lawrence out. His double groaned as Jack pulled him up and laid him on the dust-covered ground.

“Can you hear me?” He asked, patting Lawrence’s cheeks, ignoring the blood staining his fingers.

Lawrence shook his head and pointed at his ear. A blessing in disguise, only now Jack realised that in his fear for the idiot’s life he called him by his actual name. Lawrence was wheezing, his hands clutched at his chest. He was winded that's for sure. Hopefully, nothing was broken, or worse scarred.

"Idiot," Jack cursed under his breath.

Lawrence glared back at him, his hands were still on his chest, small patches of red had blossomed through on his yellow sweater. Jack spied the shrapnel poking out, his skin raw and burnt from where it had landed.

 _Great, more scars._ The one thing Lawrence was good at was ruining his body.

“I leave you for one goddamn minute, and you blow your whole apartment, you fucking community college asshole.” Jack ranted.

He held a hand on Lawrence’s chest while another dialled their personal doctor. The double didn't bother to move, he only rested his head back into the dust and rasped in more air. Jack noticed blood was trickling from his ears, and there was a small pool of blood forming at the back of his head.

He could probably add concussion and busted eardrums to the list of issues.

“Get down here, Iaso! What Iaso is dead? Well fucking send someone else, I blew up the microwave in my face, and it hurts.” He barked, without even bothering to check if it was the doctor or the receptionist.

"All right kitten, you're good, you're okay," Jack patted a hand against Lawrence's chest, and he hissed as Jack’s palm landed a little too close to a cut.

Jack bit his tongue, his double had just squirmed his way out of death yet again. Sooner or later his luck was gonna run out. This was too fucking close.

The team of physicians arrived and with a bit of struggling Lawrence was now in the med room on Jack's side of the apartment. As access to his was blown apart, as was everything else.

Jack's hand twirled the glass in front of him. His fourth one, and still Lawrence hadn't emerged from the med room. He took a deep sip before he regrettably glanced down at his now empty glass. This excessive drinking was Lawrence's habit, not his. Sure, he didn't mind having a few drinks, but as soon as his mind started to wonder he would stop. He needed to stay sharp, focused, and not wasting his evening away thinking of the double.

Jack cursed, and he felt the glass clink as he strained more pressure against it.

This was not him.

Handsome Jack did not wait on anyone.

Jack shoved his empty drink aside and pulled himself from the counter. Sleep, that's what he needed. It was already into the next cycle, and his eyes ached from the amount of dust thrown at him. He was halfway down the hall to his room when he caught sight of a mob of white marching towards him. The doctors were on their way out.

"What took so long?"

The closest one tried to fumble some words out, but Jack's patience was gone before he had finished his first drink.

"Fuck off, the lot of you."

When they continued to try and explain Jack latched onto the nearest coat and threw the person inside it down the hall.

"OUT! ALL OF YOU!"

Jack marched towards the medical room, hands twitching at his sides. He'd almost unholstered his gun.

His double better be in fucking perfect condition, if there was one mark, one scar on that body the entire physician team was going to have a date with him next Friday.

Jack's hand hadn't even reached the glass handle before it turned and the door swung open.

"Hey, you," Lawrence welcomed him with a smile that was too sloppy on the edges, and his shoulders were slumped forward.

Jack responded through clenched teeth, "You, owe me an entire evening and a new fucking carpet."

"ah-ok, boss," Lawrence drawled.

Jack's jaw was begging to ache, and so he breathed in over his teeth, trying to calm the rage squalling inside of him. Lawrence hadn't called him 'boss' in a long time, and Jack wasn't particularly sure he liked it.

"What are you on? Are you high!? It was only a damn scratch," Jack snatched Lawrence's wrist, looking for an injection site. Purple tinted his veins and ran up his arm.

"I told them my pain was a ten out of ten," Lawrence smiled back at him.

"And they gave it to you?!" Jack's hands dug into Lawrence's arm.

His double's addictive nature was well known. First, it was the pain meds, next, the bottle, then the whole not-eating saga and the last thing he needed was an Eridium junkie as a double.

"I'm Handsome Jack," he beamed back, "they gotta do what I say."

"Oh, that's _real_ cute kitten," Jack's grip was evidently getting to Lawrence, as he winced and tugged at his arm. "But I don't blow up my apartment with crack pipe code."

Jack's echo rang and without letting go of his double he pried it forward. They had sent through Lawrence medical notes, and yup there it was. A small dosage of Eridium was now circulating his system. It wasn't even needed to address his wounds, a standard Ashin health-kit could have done that.

An irritable tapping made Jack realise he'd been shaking his foot against the ground. His double looked utterly pathetic, and out of his mind, Jack would never be caught with such a pitiful expression. He let his hand coil around Lawrence's arm, digging in tighter to keep him from slinking away. Jack gave hima short tug forward, and a wave of satisfaction pulled inside him as the double yelped. With his hand firmly grasped on his inebriated double's arm, he dragged him down the hall.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Lawrence began to pull towards the living room and no doubt back to his own apartment.

"Oh, no way," Jack snapped, "your apartment is _gone_." his words left him as a hiss. "You don't get your own space anymore. You've lost that privilege." The blunt tips of his nails dug into the injection site, and his other-self flinched as Jack hit a nerve.

"I paid for it all, set it up, gave you your own special place to call home, and the thanks I get? You ungrateful little shit, you destroy it."

Lawrence was trembling now, whatever bliss the Eridium had him in was washing away rapidly.

"The things I need to do," Jack pressed a thumb into the dip of his doubles arm, punctuating each word with a sharp injection of pain. "EVERYTHING, I do, is for us, to keep us safe, to keep this all going is something you could barely comprehend."

Jack leaned into him, "Think _you_ can do _my job?_ "

Lawrence stopped pulling away from him and shook his head slowly. His eyelids were cast downward as he hunched in on himself.

"I can find any idiot to hold a gun and shoot. I can find anyone to do your job.."

Jack pressed another finger into the injection site, and this time Lawrence buckled down. He fell forward, his head only just missing Jack.

"You're replaceable, remember that."

And suddenly his Handsome Jack double was gone. His other-self - if he could even call him that - went stiff under Jack's grip, his pupils drew to narrow slits, and his mouth hung uselessly open. There was no 'Jack' anymore, all there was a pathetic wilting excuse for a double; a Timothy Lawrence.

It was time to remind his double of the consequences of being a Timothy Lawrence. He accessed his echo and made the call.

"Prep, project Tartarus. I want that AI ready by the end of the hour."

Those words were the trigger.

Jack may as well have pulled a gun on him. Lawrence dropped to his knees, and Jack had to let him go, or he'd be pulled down with him.

"No!" Lawrence rasped. "No, no no, no," he whimpered his cries like a prayer. His double was shaking his head, his voice a hoarse whisper. There were no tears, Jack had squeezed that habit out of him, but his voice nonetheless trembled.

"Jack, please." He was rocking back on his knees now. "Please, don't do it, please don't do that. Not that."

Lawrence launched forward and pressed his face into Jack's stomach. His hot breath rattled against him, and Jack shuddered from the warm sensation.

"Don't erase me, please, don't erase me," his voice broke as he dug his forehead against him. Lawrence pried his head away to glance up at him, "Jack?"

Jack refused to acknowledge his doubles theatrics, and this only caused him to crumble further into him.

"I'll be better. I'll be so much better." Lawrence's arms abruptly latched around him, he was absolutely begging now. His hands dug into the base of Jack's back. "I'll be better."

Jack grinned, a look not observable from his double.

"I don't want to go, I don't want to go." Lawrence was slurring his pathetic cries, his desperation was felt as his clawed at Jack's back. All while rocking his head against him.

Jack could not deny his lust for more of the friction.

"Please, Jack. Please call them back. Please don't do it."

The begging continued to stir something primal and rampant inside of Jack. Yet, he kept still, a tactic to shatter his doubles will; it worked. Lawrence nuzzled against him, and Jack strived to maintain his dark composure as Lawrence buried himself against his crotch.

"Don't make me go," Lawrence whispered. "Don't replace me with that...thing."

Despite it all, Jack had no intention of replacing his precious double with the AI. His digital copy was rampant, to say the least when they wiped its AI laws - a necessary risk to create a competent Jack - it went savage. Intent on copying itself and taking over every piece of software it could get its hands on. Jack only kept the project alive as an absolute last resort. But sometimes the dog - his double - needed to be taken out back, shown the barrel of the gun. A sweet reminder of who was in charge and the role it was required to play.  

“You need to sober up, quit this puppy act and get back to work. No more side projects, no more apartment. Do you understand?" Jack's voice was a low whisper, his hands pulled away from his sides and ran across the top of Lawrence's head. He trailed soft circles across his scalp, and the double pressed into the touch.

"Are you going to do something that stupid again?" Jack seethed, his breathing hitching as he tried to control his temper. Something he only managed around one other person; his baby girl.

Lawrence shuddered, he glanced up, biting his lip as he swayed his head back and forth.

 _Fuck_ , Jack could not deny the sight before him. Lawrence was utterly wrecked, his face strained, begging, Jack for his approval. He could take him right now, push him back over and destroy the last of his doubles will, with one thrust at a time against the carpet.

_Not yet._

"Good," Jack smiled down at him, all while keeping his hands intertwined with his hair.

Jack softened his grip and moved his thumb to the back of his double's neck. Right above the port.

"Don't let my lighter tone mislead you. I am fucking pissed." Jack warned.

However, Lawrence visibly relaxed, most likely crawling back into his hazy drugged induced state. He nodded his head against Jack's pants, there was no denying the hardness growing there, but Lawrence said nothing. He kept his weight pressed against him. The Handsome complex falling back into place once again.

Lawrence just stared up at him, his eyes still glassy but the fear had subsided.

"Um...where then?" Lawrence asked warily.

"You're staying with me, pumpkin."

Lawrence blinked dumbly, but he didn't protest when Jack snagged his arm and pulled him to his feet. He led him to the spare room.

Lawrence thanked him, it was cute and pathetic. It was a lot of things that Jack couldn't reason. He slammed the door and locked his miserable double away to detox. He was going to have one hell of a painful morning, and Jack had no intention of opening that door until his 'Jack' was back.

He was finally in his own bed, and sleep was determined on sparring him this evening or morning. It was so damn late.

Jack sat up, reached for a cigarette, booted his echo and opened the text editor. It had been a while since he'd smoked or coded. He looked over Lawrence's last merge, the code his double had botched, the code which had nearly KILLED him. Jack's hands gripped onto the device tighter, tonight was a close call. Way to close.

He found the problem almost instantly. The idiot hadn't written tests for the 'friendlies' module, and the whole thing had reset when he rebooted the application. Which he would have known IF he had written the fricken tests.

Jack glanced over at his empty bed. He should call Nisha in the morning. His crotch ached, and his lust had not subsided. Distracting himself with work did nothing to abate the hunger he felt.

The temptation to barge back in and drag Lawrence into his bed was overpowering, but Jack was not one to give into to petty desires. He let the last thought run bitterly over his mind. No, he already knew how he was going to play this out. As Nisha had told him many times; there are three ways to break a skag.

One; Beat it till it there's nothing left but fear, but a skag who fears you will never offer you their loyalty.

Two; trick that fucker with a hunk of meat, when it's close snag it, don't let it go till it gives up, it will cry and squirm, but all things give in, in the end.

Or the third and final method. Let it come to you. Sure you can beat it and feed it along the way, but when it chooses you, then you have that little beasts loyalty and trust. Then you have it for life.

Jack was playing out option three. His double would come to him, Jack just needed to wait it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a month, I'm done with uni for another semester! woooooo so expect updates every fortnight once again :D 
> 
> Massive thanks to Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind who helped out in this chapter, if the writing changes style for the better, than thats her good work!
> 
> and, Thank you to all the new readers who left comments while I was studying, they were such a treat to read. I hope this update was worth the wait! And I apologise again for the jump around on the chapters.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A drug that appears to affect the mind; details unknown.


	26. Hollow Point Part I

Angel's tea had long gone cold it was her third one today, and all of them had ended up like the last; forgotten on the bedside table. 

Lawrence hadn’t regained consciousness he’d stirred and cried, but he was yet to open his eyes. It was Miss Spring's who’d physically pulled her away from him when they'd reached Hollow Point. Athena and her remarkable strength pulled Lawrence over her shoulder and carried him swiftly to their place. The two women fussed over him; Janey had rushed to the pharmacy and bought all the med-kits she could spare the money for, and Athena drew up a chart to keep a record of his dosages.

That was three cycles ago. 

When the adrenaline from their escape washed away, the exhaustion collapsed her, and as a result, Angel had scarcely left the room. Nyx demanded she seek treatment for her hands, and they now sat bandaged in her lap. They'd neglected it for too long, the health kit would not tone down the severity of the burns. She'd undoubtedly have scars to show her cruelty towards Tania. 

Angel's mind raced with doubt and guilt. No amount of comfort from Felicity and the others had soothed her uncertainty. What she did to Tania was monstrous. She'd burned half that woman's face away, and yet, as she watched Lawrence cry in his sleep, the feelings were replaced with rage and pride at her small act of revenge.

Crake didn't think it was enough. He'd been different since their imprisonment; more hostile, blunt, crude than before. He hovered over Lawrence like a beast protecting his pack, forever staying by his side. 

She would not have found her courage without Crake’s help. He'd guided her out of that place, told her to stay and fight. She thanked him for that, and he said nothing on the matter. Crake just glared down at Lawrence and at the soft violet glow under his veins; another Eriduim treatment. He’d told her to stop, and she didn't listen. 

Now he scarcely talked to her.

She asked Nyx about it, but he was tight-lipped on the matter. Angel knew that was enough reason to be concerned, the blue digistruct hardly kept his mouth shut. 

Angel sighed with bitter sorrow, her actions saved Lawrence, and yet no one seemed happy on the matter.

The chart next to his bed had Janey’s and Athena's handwriting all over it. Taking note when they'd given him another health-kit or dosage of pain medication. Besides profusely thanking them over and over, she'd barely said a word to the two women. 

She hadn't said anything to anyone, and for now, she was alone. 

Nyx couldn't stand to watch Lawrence in such a state and would throw himself back into the realms of his digital home. Crake would linger the longest, sometimes Angel would place her echo out and leave him to talk with Felicity. But for most the part, she sat in the chair beside Lawrence, watching and waiting for him to wake up.

“You did everything you could,” Felicity spoke from the echo in front of her. 

“What if it was too much Eridium? What is it wasn’t enough? Wha-”

“Angel, stop this nonsense!" Felicity's voice was almost shrill.

Angel sniffed and turned towards the echo.

"Timothy is the stubbornest of us all, he won’t be knocked off that easily,” her brisk and decisive tone began to melt away. "You saved him, you brought him here."

Angel nodded her head and weakly hummed in agreement.

“What do you think they wanted with us?”

Angel's hands were fidgeting with the shirt Miss Springs had given her. A habit she was trying to stop as she all but tore Lawrence's yellow sweater to shreds (it lay as a tattered mess on the chair behind her). 

Felicity sighed an odd expression for the AI, “No doubt they wanted to use your Siren abilities, who knows to what end. As for Timothy, well he was Jack’s closest confidence. I’m sure there were many secrets he could have told them.”

An array of red particles lit the room; Crake had burst from the watch.

During the lonely hours, Angel had sat by Lawrence's side she'd tinkered with the restrictions forced onto the digistruct device. She'd made it so they could exist inside the watch in a dormant state. Allowing them to connect to Lawrence’s echo and use the receiver to listen in. The final addition, empowered them to release themselves on their own accord. Something she should have suggested to Lawrence before all this. It would have saved him if Nyx and Crake could have come forth when he needed them.

Angel slumped forward, tears of bitter regret were pooling in her eyes. So many 'if only's'. If she had just done something different none of this would have happened. 

Crake cleared his throat, a habit he'd observed from Lawrence. 

Angel pulled her head up and gave the digital double a short smile, "evening."

"That time already and still no change?"

Angel nodded slowly. The bluntness in Crake’s words cut through to her, and the tears began to fall.

"Ah...he's going to be ok," Crake pulled away, his eyes darted back to Lawrence's restless face. Although the red digistruct had been curt with her, his human qualities were improving. He still lacked the empathy Nyx had, though Angel noted his efforts. 

“As to his 'questioning', Lawrence's body was racked with Veritilium. Days worth it seems."

"That's a rare substance, exclusively patented to Maliwan,” Angel blurted out. Long ago, Jack had asked her to find out what she could on the powerful serum. The prototype version was worth more than Eridium per drop. It rendered the users mind willing to talk, to spill all their secrets and answer all questions. How did Tania get her hands on it?

Crake nodded, "The dosage they had him on was...extreme, chances are he would have spilled everything.”  

"Was there anything else? What about when you scanned him?"

"I didn't see much or anything before you showed up." Crake turned back to face Lawrence, and she noted how he ignored her second question.

"You were talking with Jack before I entered the room. I heard you."

"Lawrence requested we call him."

Angel pursed her lips together, carefully eyeing the red digistruct across the bed. 

"He wasn't himself," he tried to explain, "and he said nothing of you."

But Angel had a sickly feeling as to the real intention of the call. You don't survive Handsome Jack for almost six years without giving up some part of yourself. There was something there between them, and Angel took another sip of her cold tea to restrain her curiosity on the matter. 

"That's it!" Said a voice far too cheery for the current atmosphere.

Angel sat up and trailed her eyes over to the doorway. The light was so much brighter there, and she squinted to capture the silhouette of Janey leaning against the door.

"I told myself, three days I'm gonna let her sit next to that idiot." Janey gestured to Lawrence as the said 'idiot'. "Then I'm pulling her away."

"I don't feel like going anywhere," Angel smiled politely and returned her attention to Lawrence. She appreciated her efforts, but the thought of leaving the room was exhausting. Her mind ached from exerting her powers, and her face was still blue and swollen from Tania's assault. 

"I need someone to carry the groceries, see my arms are not like Athena's, can't carry enough to feed four people." 

Angel didn't buy that for a moment but said nothing.

"And I can't ask him," Janey threw another dramatic arm towards Crake, "Those red beefcake arms are only good for shootin lasers."

"Evening to you to Springs," Crake replied, a sneer slipped across his face. Although Angel did not feel like there was any malice in the gesture.

"Come on, you're in my house. Time to earn your keep" her pace was as keen as her words as she entered the bedroom.

"But...what if he wakes up? What if no one is here-"

"Red face one and blue idiot two can stay," Janey threw her head over to Crake as she lifted Angel to her feet. 

"I'm not leaving my guest to rot away in the dark. We'll get some food, hmm maybe some clothes for you too, then cook a massive meal for all of us. Sound good?"

_ No _ , Angel bitterly thought.

"Angel, go with Miss Springs. Please, you need some time away from all of this."

"But-" she tried to protest.

"Take her!" Felicity implored to Janey and with that Angel felt the woman's calloused hands grab her by the arm and drag her from Lawrence's side.

She called to Crake as she was pulled through the doorway. 

"Tell me if he wakes!"

He gave her a nod as she was taken away.

The desert cave was viciously cold. Angel had forever been surrounded by perfectly controlled room temperatures, and it had taken some time to adjust to the blazing heat of the Dust and the freezing depths of the cave.

Janey had layered up Angel thoroughly; giving her a hooded jumper, well-worn gloves, and a beanie to hide her Siren tattoos but to also shield her from the brisk air.

They had ventured into the evening markets. It was packed with life, Angel couldn't recall a time she'd been surrounded by so many. All kinds were there, everyone's clothes were mix-matched she recognised a Maliwan suit, stolen no doubt and someone with Hyperion cybernetics crudely installed. Janey stayed close to her side and flashed her teeth if anyone stepped to close to the pair of them.

"Ok, this one!? It has to be this one, Tim would love it." Janey held up the shirt, it had a cartoon face of a green cat, with a giant pink sequin bow around its neck. The tee had seen better days, a few holes were already wearing into the sleeves, but so far everything had been like that. At least this one didn't come with blood stains.

"I don't think Tim is fond of cats, or any animal for that matter." 

Angel had started to use his other name. It seemed odd for her to be the only one to refer to him by his last name.

"What? No way! I gave him a bunch of my inspirational cat posters. Don't tell me hated them!?" 

Angel laughed, "I don't know, we'll have to ask him when he wakes up."

Janey was still studying the cat tee, it was ridiculous, and Angel very much wanted to see it on Tim.

"Ok, let's get him that one," Angel smiled and Janey checked to make sure it was his size.

They paid the merchant and explored further into the evening markets. They passed vendors cooking up something heavily spiced, Angel sniffed the air, despite the appearance of the cooked skag ribs it smelled heavenly.

Angel shook her head when Janey asked if she wanted one.

"I have, had, a pet skag, she was left behind." she wearily explained.

"Oh," Janey pouted, "you never know. Those things are dumb as a beaten drongo, but have the survival rate of the sun."

Angel laughed at the odd analogy. She hoped Janey was right. 

"Oh! Come on, over here Angel," Janey tugged on her arm impatiently. She led her over to another rack of goods and in amongst the dark mattered clothes she pulled out a blue overall denim dress.

Angel frowned and looked at the outfit, "Pandora women don't wear dresses."

"We can make it work!" Janey cheered.

"I'm not sure," Angel began to fret pulling at the hems of her hoodie.

"But you'd look so cute! Come on, Angel-"

Jack’s words whispered across her mind, ' _ Angel, baby girl, look pretty for me, smile for me _ ' 

Angel pulled her hands away from her sides they curled into fists as she shoved the garment away.

"I'm not a doll!" Angel snapped, only to immediately anguish and reach for Janey's hand. "I'm so sorry! I didn't, I didn't mean to-"

"No, hun, it's ok," Janey only held onto her hand tighter. "And you know what! You're right. Screw the dress, let's get you something badass."

Angel's heart fluttered with a warmth she'd not felt in so long. Janey's continued concerns and considerations were baffling, yet so welcomed.. 

"But not...too badass, I want something..."Angel paused, she didn't know what she wanted.

Janey pulled her into a one-shoulder hug, "whatever you pick, I'm sure its hell of a lot better than whatever Tim or those military freaks had you in."

Angel smiled "Lawrence, I mean, Tim made me wear his clothes. It was weird too because I thought they were my Dad's. I could have worn his jumper as a dress. They were so big."

"Hold on," Janey cocked her head to the side, an amused look was across her face. "You thought Tim was Jack?"

Angel nodded slowly.

"How'd you make that mistake? Appearances aside, they're nothing alike!" Janey scoffed.

Angel only bit her lip at that and glanced away. Janey was in for a surprise when Tim woke up. Sure, she could tell the difference between them now, but it was hard to find the tells at first. 

"What colour was it?"

"Hmm?" Angel glanced back at Janey.

"The jumper he made you wear?"

"Yellow. Hyperion yellow, its back at the house." Angel huffed.

Janey snorted, "that's an awful colour. You need to be in...blue, or maybe something lighter?"

Janey kept bringing the clothes out. Angel could not recall the last time she'd been shopping. Was it when she was seven? Before her mum died? It must have, as she had no memory of Jack ever taking her anywhere. 

After lots of back and forth, Angel settled on some light blue high waisted shorts (a rare find that she just had to have) that pleated out and made it look more like a skirt. Thick black leggings, combat boots, and a long sleeve top with a hoodie, because she decided she liked hoodies after Janey had given her one to wear.

She kept her beanie on to hide her half-shaven head, which was now growing out and was a centimetre long. Angel wondered how long it would take to grow it all the way out. That was the first thing she wanted to do, have long hair and style it the way she wanted. Angel wondered if Tim knew how to braid? Angel let herself giggle at the thought. Perhaps Nyx would be more willing once she helped him get a real digistructed body.

Angel never thought she'd have this found family. A family who all in some ways looked and acted like her Dad, and at the same time, they were so much better. Though, there were some hard conversations to have ahead. Angel's mood began to sour once again at the thought of Tim and her father. She knew it was best unspoken, but there was something there and what if Tim wanted that life back?

Angel sighed and suppressed the thoughts for later. She paid the merchant with the money she'd stolen from a Hyperion weapon vending machine.

Janey led her around some more, before they settled in at a small bar, which also acted as a grocery store. Liquor was available everywhere, buy a gun and get a drink, buy a dress and get a free shot. It amused Angel greatly. She'd never had an alcoholic beverage before, and yet she was content with her tea. She remembered how Tim's safe house fridge had been stocked with the most excellent liquor. He must have stolen it from the Bunker. Angel scoffed at the memory of him favouring that over water.

As she waited for Janey to place the order Angel let her mind wander into her echo. She called Tim's echo-comm on the bedside and connected to the device, from there, she turned on the camera feed.

The scene was much the same Tim's face was feverish, his skin pale and expression pained. However, Crake was no longer sitting in the corner, or standing arms crossed away from the bed. He sat on the edge beside Tim, with his back hunched over and his head in his hands. 

Angel's eyes narrowed as she closed in on the image. Crake pulled his head up and looked down at Tim, his hand moved to cover his while his expression remained unreadable. 

Angel abruptly found herself flushing red. This intimacy was not for her eyes, but she did not cut the connection.

"Jack?" Tim stirred. His eyes didn't open, he only winced and stirred restlessly into the pillow. 

"No, it's Crake."

"Oh."

There was no denying the bitter disappointment in his voice and the distress in Crake's gaze. The red digistruct pulled his hand away and sat in silence.

Felicity's words abruptly intercepted her mind.

' _ Angel, you need to stop this. Talk to Janey, enjoy this moment. Do not concern yourself with things you cannot fix.' _

' _ But what if he wakes up and he's not the same? What if-' _

"Hey, you ok there mate?"

Janey approached with a tray of skewered vegetables and a very full canvas bag of tinned food. 

"Just worrying about Tim, about everything,” she replied honestly.

"Hmmm," Janey nodded and chewed on her food.

Angel just rolled her kebab in the tray, waiting for the steaming greens to cool.

"You know," Angel started cautiously, "you never asked who I was, why I was with Tim."

Janey just pressed her lips together and swallowed down the meal. 

"Figured you'd tell me on ya own. Sure, It was surprising, to get the call, hadn’t heard from Tim in five years, I always thought Jack got to him."

_ Oh _ , Jack got to Tim alright. Just not in the way Janey knew.

"I'm his daughter you know," Angel whispered.

"What? Tim's?"

"No!" Angel blurted out followed by a hoarse laugh. It sounded strange, the absurdity of it all made her choke.

"No, Jack's," her tone dropped as fast as her spirit.

Janey hummed, "ah, yeah, the eyes, guess that should have been obvious."

Angel instinctively brushed her fringe over her green eye. She resented her heterochromia; her blue eye was her mother's. That's what she convinced herself, and the green was Jacks; which was better hidden. 

Janey continued to chew her food, not at all phased with Angel's confession regarding her origins. It was not the reaction Angel had been expecting. She’d been prepared for a snide remark, for Janey to list off every vile act her father had committed, and by association, she was also to blame for. Yet, Janey kept eating, unaware of the terrible waves of anxiety swelling inside of her. 

"You gonna eat that?" Janey pointed to the kebab, and when Angel shook her head, the other women eagerly said her thanks and took it.

Janey did not care she was Handsome Jack's daughter. 

It was absolutely ridiculous. How could she not?

"Dammit," Janey stressed.

Angel jolted her head up, here it was. She was going to say something on the matter. Angel clenched her bandaged hands, though not tight enough to sting her burns.

"Athena needs some time," she huffed.

"Some time?" Angel queried.

"Yeah, you see," Janey rubbed a hand down the back of her neck and offered Angel an awkward sly grin. "We kinda stole that caravan to come pick you all up."

“I'm sorry you had to do that."

She was doing it again; apologising. Angel bit the inside of her lip.

"Nah all good, it was the only thing with a booster that was going to reach you. Seems the one-eyed-old man we stole it from wants a 'favour' from Athena," Janey rolled her eyes, "so she's gonna be away for a week or so."

"Well, tell me what I can do to help around the house." Angel hurriedly offered.

Janey scolded and stood up, "you're our guest, you need rest, speaking of which, we should head back."

Janey face dropped, her skin grew pale, and she suddenly swung the canvas shopping bag over her shoulder.

"We  _ really _ need to get back," she started to usher Angel out of the bar. "Athena didn't go home."

"And?"

"She was meant to give Tim another pain-med dosage."

_ oh no, _ Angel bitterly thought as they ran out the door.

* * *

His head was hammering nails of pain within him, and his mind screamed for him to open his eyes, but Lawrence couldn't will himself to move. Moving would hurt, moving would cut him open, they'd heal him and do it again, and again.

So he kept his eyes shut and remained still. Not an easy feat, he needed water, his throat was dry, and Lawrence rasped a cry as he body reacted to him stirring awake. 

Carefully he pried his eyes open, the only movement he dared to make. Lawrence stared at the cracked ceiling above for a considerable time. Before he remembered he could move his neck without the jarring pain punishing him. He craned his chin up and glanced around the room. 

It was a far cry from the bandit dungeon which had been his home for...Lawrence grimaced, he couldn't recall how long he'd been there. He couldn’t recollect the details, it all seemed to blur into one timeframe. How long was it? A few days? Weeks? Was it even longer? Lawrence groaned loudly as he tried to recall. Nothing but a rusted open door, a tray of needles and an iron chair came to mind. 

Oh, but he remembered  _ her _ face.

Skin that had seen too much sun, amber eyes, dark hair with that violet streak. The rest of her features eluded him, but her sly smile was imprinted in his mind. He even saw it when he closed his eyes. Her soft words gently encouraging him to open up, her hands running down the side of his face, locking his gaze with hers.

Lawrence swallowed down the acid bubbling up, his stomach was a torrent of nausea. He could no longer support his head up that tiny bit of exertion was already turning his vision spotty. He rested back in the covers and closed his eyes and focused on the pain; that's how he survived. Just think of the pain and not her questions, not her gentle words prying into his mind.

Only pain.

His yearnings to be distracted by her influence was granted, and with every passing moment, waves of agony surged through him. Lawrence pushed his head into the pillow and screamed into the fabric. Everything felt wrong, his chest ached, and his stomach was pulling apart.

He shuddered and cried out again as a surge of static ran across his forehead. 

"Tim?"

Lawrence pried his eyes open; his vision blurry from the tears. Red and magenta swayed in front of him.

"Crake?" Lawrence whispered back. "Whats wrong...whats wrong with me," the words choked out between his chapped lips.

"You're not meant to be awake, this is too soon."

He couldn't see Crake's face, just a mass of red but the concern in his voice illustrated the care on the digistruct's face.

Another voice spoke behind him, "Athena was meant to be back an hour ago to give him another dosage." 

_ Nyx _ , Lawrence tried to call to him, but all he could do was hyperventilate into the covers.

"Felicity, call the others, he's not meant to be awake, he should be out for this."

Another voice answered, yet Lawrence couldn't focus on the words. He drew a shaken gasp as a new wave of suffering smothered his breathing. 

"It's ok, buddy" Nyx cooed, static ran up his front again. As uncomfortable as the sensation was, it was welcomed knowing they were safe and were still by his side.

"Make it stop," Lawrence cried, "fuck, what...is happening...where...where am I?"

He coughed, and Lawrence felt something dribble from his agape mouth against the pillow. Opening his eyes, he saw tiny specks of blood bloom across the once white linen.

"Where the hell are they?" Crake growled before the pain overwhelmed him and Lawrence’s mind surrendered to it all.

* * *

Angel heard him before Felicity was able to get a message to her comm.

Lawrence wailed from the other side of the house. His cries made Angel's heartthrob, it seemed like her whole chest was trying to push up her throat. He yelled again, this time with notably vicious sounds. 

Janey drew a sharp breath, "oh boy, not good."

"Angel, can you unpack the goods, I'll deal with this." She was already making her way down the hall.

Angel wanted to protest, but it didn't seem fair to argue with the person who was offering them their home. Both women had barely made it to the hallway when an explosion of red appeared in front of them.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!?" Crake roared at them, his face contorted in pure fury.

Angel jolted back, her heart tore against her chest, and she dropped all the bags to her feet. Jack's livid face rounded on her - it was Crake she reasoned - but fear gripped her all the same.

"Shove it, red, I'm heading there now," Janey walked through the red digistruct and down the hall.

"You should have been here an hour ago!" Crake seethed as he paced behind her. His voice but an animalist snarl, shoulders rolled back. "He's trying to regrow half his godamn stomach! He cannot be awake! This is torture for him!"

"I know! I know!" Janey snapped back and was now running down the hall. 

Angel picked up the bags and slowly followed behind. Her pale hands restlessly tugged at the handle as she placed them on the kitchen counter.

"Fu--ck! Fuck!" Tim's screams of pain wailed down the hall, and the tin of beans Angel had grabbed slipped from her grasp; she couldn't stand this. The tears were welling in her eyes again, and the worst part? She had no idea if they were for Tim or in response to hearing her own father's voice in agony.

When she heard the crash Angel didn't wait to be told to stay back, she ran into the hall and threw the door open. 

"Woah there big fella, come on now, back to bed."

Janey had her arms under Tim, he was halfway out of bed, thrashing against the sheets, the stitches were pulling out on his arms. Crake was pacing in the corner, the expression on his face was a distorted mix of rage and anguish. His hand flexed at the holster on his hip.

"Angel!" Janey called, "the syringe."

"No," Tim hissed, he looked rabid, his grip on Janey turned into something fierce. "No more," he spat and clawed at the mechanic who was only trying to help. 

Tim ripped the drip line from his arm and shuddered forward. His eyes were glassy, Angel was sure he had no idea who he was attacking or where he was. 

"Timothy!" Janey lightly slapped him on the side of the face, and Angel watched Crake fume at the sudden attack.

"Mate, you've got to get back to bed. Still got a lot of healing to do."

Tim was sobbing now, gasping for air between his cries. Angel ran to the bedside and dosed the syringe, she kept her back turned so he couldn't see her preparing the needle. 

"Fuck, mate, you're trying to regrow a lot. You need to stay still," Janey cursed. 

Tim only swore back at her something fierce and derogative. Which made Felicity shout from her comm at hearing such a thing.

"Angel now," Janey hissed over her shoulder.

The needle was in and out before he could growl or swipe at her. The effects were thankfully swift, Angel had made sure they bought the best Hollow Point could afford. Tim's eyes blacked out his head began to hang heavy into Janey. He started to slump forward the mechanic pushed him back, and swung his feet back up into the bed. Janey wiped sweat from her hairline, as she whispered softer words to him. 

"It's ok Tim, we've got you, back to bed sweetheart," Janey spoke breathlessly as she fought with his dead weight.

Angel pried the sheets out from under him and covered him once again. He stared at her under his lashes; his gaze blank.

"I'm sorry Angel, and you too Crake," Janey rested a hand on her shoulder. "I thought we would be back in time."

Angel nodded her eyes wide as she watched Tim drift back into his slumber. Crake cursed under his breath, he stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and eyes focused on Tim.

"This is unacceptable," he spoke bitterly under his breath. "Do you have any idea what he went through for you?"

Angel kept her eyes on Tim, refusing to meet Crake's guilt educing remarks.

"His mind was wrecked with Veritilium, his body torn apart, deprived of food and water for a week, and you think a shopping trip is more important than seeing him through this?" 

"Crake, come on stand down buddy," Nyx pulled at his brother's jacket, but Crake threw an arm at his brother.

"Piss off, they need to be bloody reminded."

It was Felicity who tried to settle the matter. 

"Angel deserves her own recovery too. She needs time for herself, to breathe, to live. Free from Jack."

"She's only alive because of him!" Crake snapped back, his hand pointed at Tim.

That was all Angel could stand. She swivelled on the spot and marched out of the room and down the hall. 

"Do not forget the sacrifices Angel made, the fear she overcame to free you all!" Felicity's voice was sharp calling from both her echo and Lawrence's echo on the bedside.

Angel started for the kitchen, yet she could not escape the argument. 

Both digistructs pixelated into the hall beside her. It was over at that point, Felicity and Crake shouted back at each other. Each trying to prove who deserved their attention and care. 

Nyx stood close to her nervously stepping his weight from one foot to the other. His hand closed over hers and Angel tried to cling to his touch. 

Crake made a disgruntled noise and flashed away, the red glow under the bedroom door indicated he was back at Tim's side. 

Nyx remained where he was.

"Don't let him get to you," Nyx whispered softly. "His way of caring is...not the best."

"Not the best!? His way of caring is like Jack!" Angel spat and stormed into the kitchen. "Being a complete overprotective guilt tripping asshole!" 

"He was out of line, but.."

Angel threw a wild glare at Nyx's way, she didn't want to hear any 'buts' or 'whys'. Crake was acting just like Jack, forcing her to feel ashamed for taking any time for herself, forcing her to bear the guilt and blame.

"But you need to understand where Crake is come from." Nyx tone was not like his usual self, he sounded his age, spoke slowly and kept his gaze fixed on hers.

"I don't want to-" Angel began to snap back, but Felicity spoke over her. 

"Angel listen to what he has to say. All of us have felt the abuse and wrath from Jack. Nyx and Crake too."

Angel swung her back to the blue digistruct as she turned on the kettle. Jack always made excuses for his actions, why should Crake be any different?

"You know how we get summoned automatically when Tim is in dire need of aid?" Nyx spoke softly. 

Angel said nothing and went to fetch a mug.

"Angel, you're acting very rude," Felicity whispered from her comm, and Angel resisted the urge to silence it.

She found the tea bags and set it by the kettle as we waited for it to boil. Nyx kept talking, intent on continuing despite Angel's cold shoulder.

"Well, every time it happened by Jack's hands our programming forbid us to help him. We just had to stand there and watch him-Jack...do his thing." 

Angel's shoulders slumped as she carefully poured the boiling water into the mug. Why was he telling her this? 

"Tim would be beaten, abused, left to pick himself up and wear that stupid Jack grin all over again."

Angel felt her face flush red, she was acting petty not listening to Nyx's story. Slowly she turned back to face him. Nyx's soft tone did not reveal the murderous look in his gaze. There was a fury behind his eyes, the same look Crake wielded when they came home and when he charged after Tania.

"And we couldn't do anything. Tim begged us to help, Jack would laugh, and we just had to watch it all."

He pulled his gaze away and slowly uncurled his fits. Nyx did not look himself. 

Angel's eyes began to sting, and her hands sought warmth around the mug in front of her. 

"After our AI laws were broken it all came rushing back, we remembered anything, well, we never forgot. But now we remembered we did nothing." Nyx stared broken, he restlessly moved against the counter.

"But that's not your fault," Angel finally spoke, her tone a hushed whisper. 

"Still feel blame all the same." Nyx shrugged. "And now that we can choose to help him we're still limited by these stupid hologram bodies. We couldn't do anything to save him from Tania, we can't do much now either."

Angel nodded slowly. 

"Angel," Nyx stressed her name, and she met his gaze. "It's happened a lot. One too many times I think for Crake to handle. He's a ...complex guy." Nyx nodded thoughtfully as he spoke of his brother. 

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because Crake and Tim won't," Nyx grounded, he scolded the two of them before continuing. "You saw him, Crake's way of dealing with problems is violence and threats, and Tim? Well, we all know he turns into 'Handsome Jack' the moment he's pushed into a corner. If not that, then he's drowning himself with substance abuse."

Nyx huffed and crossed his arms, "What a great couple those to make," he finished bitterly. 

Angel buried her face into the warmth of her tea. Sipping on the warm drink, she considered Nyx's words. When were their AI laws broken? How long did they have to watch Tim's abuse?

"Thanks, I guess...for telling me."

The guilt was back again. Every way she looked at it, the blame landed somewhere on her.  She stared at her hands and counted the acid spots across the back of her arm in an effort to distract herself from the stinging in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to...feel bad? Do you feel bad?" Nyx words spewed out at their usual swiftness. Angel glanced up, and he offered her a shy smile. "I'm sorry. It's all a mess. Everything with Tim is a mess."

"Yeah, I know. I'm ok," and Angel returned the smile. 

"Don't get me wrong, my bro is a massive red hostile asshole," Nyx pixelated to sit opposite her at the table. 

"He is," Angel poked her tongue out before sipping on her tea.

"He'll come back like a sad puppy and apologise, he's just like Tim in that regard." 

"This is all very mature of you Nyx," Felicity spoke up. "Sharing this."

Nyx slumped in the chair and rested his hands behind his head. 

"Oh yeah? Well I can be," his tune became sly once again, and a smug grin was plastered across his face. "Only when Tim and Crake are out of ear-shot. Don't want them getin the wrong idea. Better they think I'm blue, dumb, and useless, then I can one-up them and be the leader of this glum party of idiots!"

He winked at Angel, and she had to roll her eyes at his complete character change.

"If anyone is the leader it's me," Felicity jeered back.

Nyx beamed, "let's have a party election. Angel, who are you voting for?"

Angel snorted at the idea and declared her vote was going to Felicity.

"While we wait for red-fuse-head to sulk back want to play bunkers and badasses?"

"Play what now?"

"Oh! do I have a fricken treat for you two." 

Nyx glowed and digitised a blue board into the centre of the table as he began to hurriedly explain the story and rules of the game. Angel slumped into the chair, relaxing for the first time since coming home. Her newfound friends weren't perfect, her feelings towards Tim were complicated enough; Crake was another angry mystery to solve; Nyx's invasion was just too much to handle sometimes; and Felicity was always reprimanding her. Despite it all, she felt at home, she felt safe and whose family was perfect anyway?

********************************

The bed was wide enough for Angel to crawl next to Lawrence and sleep on top of the covers. Janey and Athena had previously insisted she take the room, while the two of them had squeezed onto the couch. Space was limited in their tiny narrow place, but the two women made the sacrifice to give her and Lawrence somewhere to rest. 

He was back under the spell of painkillers keeping him asleep from the painful experience of regrowing half the contents in his abdomen. He occasionally stirred, mumbled words in the night, that was as close to being conscious as he got.

Angel knew now the words he'd tried to whisper to her in the caravan. He'd mouthed them to her, yet all that escaped him was blood.

'I'm sorry.'

He mumbled them in his sleep, uttering the same words over and over. It was early in the cycle, not yet 'dawn' when he started to stir again.

Angel rolled over, wrapping the covers around her shoulders. Hollow Point's 'nights' were void of all light, the moon nor the sun reached these depths. Angel turned the light of her echo on, the soft glow revealed Lawrence's profile. Sweat covered his hairline, and his face twitched as his breathing reeled long breaths. 

He never spoke more than a few words at a time. 

He rolled his head to the side facing her, his eyes peaked under his lashes.

"Angel?"

"I'm here," she whispered back, not before she silenced her echo from all prying 'ears'. Angel bit her lip, Lawrence looked every part like John. A broken man, struggling with the loss and grief of his wife. The way his voice shook, his frozen gaze and broken will; it all came back to her.

She had been seven when she lost her mother. John was torn apart never made a whole again. Angel wonder if Tim would ever be the same after Jack, after Tania. 

It was in these quiet moments alone in the dark that Angel closed her eyes and played pretend. Lawrence wasn't here, he was another ghost of Handsome Jack. It was only John, her Dad who laid beside her.

Angel masked Lawrence's words as John's. He was sorry for hurting her, for leaving her alone, for not being there when her mother was taken away. And when he apologised Angel pretended it was John's, not Lawrence's. 

"Dad?" she whispered her voice hitching in despair. 

Tim didn't respond.

The tears trailed down her cheeks, and Angel pressed her face into the pillow, as if to bury the guilt. Her chest ached for her Dad, and all she had was this man, this imitation of Handsome Jack. 

She'd tried to convince herself Lawrence could become John; a pointless endeavour. She could not erase Tim, not like Jack had tried to do. For whatever selfish, petty reason he had saved her from the Bunker. He was here now, and she had to accept that.

John was dead, her Dad was gone. 

"Lawrence?" she whispered back to him.

He hummed quietly.

"We're going to be ok."

* * *

They kept Lawrence in his drugged induce coma for another five cycles. Only when Janey was convinced everything was back in place, that he'd be able to move and eat again did they start to wean him off the pain medications and the array of health-kits.

When Angel studied his chart she'd discovered he had nine general-health kits, another five to cover the blood loss and eleven to recover his organ damage. That didn't include the fluids and the nutrient supplements he'd been on, and the additional Eridium Angel had given him. The Eridium being the only thing that stabilised him long enough to get him back to Hollow Point. 

They still didn't entirely know the extent of what he’d suffered. The bite marks on his lips had healed, but who knew what that amount of Veritilium could do to the mind? Angel had been tempted to find a source to hack into Maliwan's databases and find out herself, but Felicity held her back, warned her against worrying herself.

They would know soon enough.

Janey dragged Angel out into the garage, and she did her usual protesting, but Felicity reassured her she'd tell her the moment Lawrence woke.

"I'm done," Angel passed over the broken recorder to Janey. It was such a minute task, all it needed was a factory reboot and a few updates, but Janey responded as if Angel performed miracles. 

"You superstar!" she cheered and hurriedly began to find a channel to play some music.

Angel aimless tinkered with her echo, she activated the feed on Lawrence's echo-comm and found he hadn't moved. Although he did ever so slightly stir, his face was screwed up as if he were trapped in a painful dream. Angel watched on for another minute before Felicity hacked her own echo and cut the feed.

' _ You need to stop, he's going to be ok.' _ Felicity's voice warned over Angel's mind. 

' _ Something isn't right! I just know it.' _

' _ Nothing more you can do about it.' _

Angel huffed and resigned she'd wait. 

"Pass me that, spanner thing, the larger one the bench" Janey called over. Angel pushed herself off the bench and found the ‘spanner thing' for Janey.

Janey was servicing her motorcycle. It was an ancient piece of tech, Angel marvelled at how she'd been able to maintain it for so long. She left the mechanic to her ministrations and returned to her corner up on the bench. Turning on her echo, she re-opened her 'research'.

_ Tania _ .

Who she was, Angel did not know.

She searched her name through all of Hyperion's, Maliwan's, and Atlas's databases; nothing. She never revealed her intentions for Angel, besides some false promises of taking down Hyperion. But who didn't have a grudge with the corporate giant? Then there was Maliwan's influence she claimed they were funded by them, that may explain how she got her hands on the Veritilium. 

Angel 'typed' out her notes with her mind. Compiling her research, searches and data into a folder. She would solve this mystery; Jack had trained her well.

Angel rubbed the back of her head. Her nights had been occupied by painful dreams and morning headaches. She reasoned it was from using her powers, developing new ones, or perhaps it was from having the Viral Felicity ripped from her mind.

Angel cursed under her breath. Tania had destroyed her before Angel could bring her back. Split the AI from her mind, after she had given her 'life' to protect her in the ship. 

The guilt was withdrawn, Angel pressed her lips together at the memory. How she took something from Tania; her face. 

She wondered what the woman looked like now.

Angel stirred restlessly as her imagination showed her images of disfigured faces. She switched her echo over to the last piece of communication the viral Felicity had sent her in attempt to distract herself from her own actions. She could not decipher the message no matter how many algorithms she put through it. The words would not match. The Viral Felicity had tried to warn her about something.

'T-EY  -RE N0- B---I-S, T---A -S ----TA-I- -A-E---N...---T --G--- --N...ANGEL RUN’

She reread the message. Hoping it would reveal a clue from her persistence; nothing. 

Angel sighed, maybe it was time for a break. She went to access Lawrence's feed once again when Felicity entered her mind.

_ 'Angel...Timothy is awake.' _

She jolted forward and leapt off the bench. All thoughts of Tania were forced aside as she fastened her echo to her belt and ran for the door.

"Angel?" Janey called from the floor.

"He's awake!" she yelled, already clutching her coat around her shoulders as she bolted out of the garage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day shine :3 and I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** )
> 
> Please let me know if you read and enjoyed the update, cheers :D
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	27. Hollow Point Part II

When Lawrence stirred awake the second time, he found his memories didn't produce any more clarity. There was a dull ache throbbing at his core, and no matter how hard he thought back he could not recall the cause of it. Lawrence took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes, and was surprised to discover himself in a bed with the covers tightly around him, snug and warm. 

His heart immediately began to strike erratically in anticipation. Where the hell was he? Where was Angel? The memories lay buried, and the questions surged forth.

Lawrence chanced a glance at his side and was relieved to see the watch was on his wrist. If he could just move his arm slightly, he could swipe Nyx and Crake to his side. Yet, no amount of coxing seemed to make that happen.

Somehow, he knew moving would hurt him, and that alone was enough to deter him. After a long drawn breath, Lawrence gritted his teeth together and sought to reach the watch. His shoulders ached, every component protested to moving, as if his muscles had never functioned before. Yet the pain was different, more like an invasion of pins and needles, not the slicing sensation he vaguely recalled. Lawrence didn't touch the watch before Nyx and Crake burst forth.

Lawrence watched wide-eyed as his two digital companions were at his side, without him having made it to the watch. Nyx sat in the chair beside him his feet were thrown up on the bed (going through Lawrence's own legs), and Crake sat beside him on the covers.

“Oh thank fuck, finally” Nyx dragged out the last word. "You're awake!" he beamed.

"Water," Lawrence rasped. The word almost didn't make it out. 

Crake pointed to the bedside, and he mentally groaned. He would have to reach for it himself. Nyx and Crake weren't the 'interacting with objects' department. His arm prickled and protested to being put to work, and it felt like everything was strained and twisted about inside of him. He grasped at the glass, only to fail and knock it to the side causing it to smash on the floor. Lawrence fell back into the covers his hands trembling in front of him uncontrollably. He closed his eyes, so he didn't have to look at Crake's worried glare.

“What...what happened?” His voice was dry and hoarse. 

When the two digistructs didn't reply Lawrence shot his eyes open. They were staring at each other, and Lawrence knew they were both silently communicating with one another.

"Hey," Lawrence cried for their attention. 

“Do you remember the Jack who was made after you?”

"What? um no?" Lawrence slurred back. 

Crake reiterated the question, "the second double, after you? Do you remember what happened to him?"

Lawrence closed his eyes, wincing as his mind sent shivers of worry over him. 

"Yeah...I think?" 

He didn't know the guy's name he was the only other surgically altered 'Jack', and he didn't even last a few months. Spat the dummy and ran away because he couldn't handle the gig. 

"Nisha and I...we...found him in the Dust," Lawrence replied slowly as the details found their way to him. 

Dammit, it was so long ago. Why was Crake mentioning this?

"Do you remember what you found?" 

"Yeah," Lawrence slowly nodded and his stomach twisted in his gut as he recalled the sight. It hadn't been pretty. 

The second Jack double was found dead with his hands across his stomach. It looked like he'd tried to tear something out. When Nisha performed her 'autopsy', she pulled out an extended length of razor wire from his stomach. The same metal was poking out from all his limbs. When they investigated further, they concluded he had tried to crawl from some abandoned Atlas dungeon below the sand. The place had been deserted, but there was enough evidence to know that's where he had been held. 

“They did the same thing to you,” Crake deadpanned.

Lawrence leaned forward, he wanted to dry wrench, yet his stomach fired rhythms of pain over him as he heaved. He remembered it now, the slicing and twisting excruciating pain inside of him, how every time he tried to escape he would slash his body apart from the inside. How his bloody hands hovered over his stomach as something tried to claw its way free.

"How? How the fuck am I alive?" Lawrence heaved, trying to push away nausea curdling inside him. 

"Angel saved you, she was brilliant," Nyx offered a hesitant smile. "We got Janey and Athena to help too."

"You're at their place now, in Hollow Point. All the wire is gone." Crake spoke flatly, and Nyx shifted uncomfortably beside his brother. 

"We...um...dealt with that as quickly as we could." Crake finished. Lawrence made note how unusual Crake's stammering sounded.

With shaken hands, Lawrence clenched at the sheets. To move his limbs took a mental strain over him, though he slowly began to pull them away. Everything was a struggle, his coordination was off, and Lawrence's fingers trembled as he pulled the last sheet away. Cautiously he sat up so he could inspect his stomach. 

It was bad. 

The wound was almost two fingers wide and ran from one hip to the other. The scar split out causing rivers of angry red lines to flow across his entire abdomen. It was thick and raised up, contorting his once smooth bronze skin. 

“Athena got it all out,” Crake spoke, but his voice seemed distant. 

Crake said something else, but Lawrence couldn't focus on his words. There was no way he could have survived this, half his inside must have been pulled out. Lawrence glanced at his trembling fingers and noticed the soft purple hue running up his veins. It slowly dawned on him, and he stifled a cry.

“You gave me more Eridium...didn’t you,” he pulled his gaze from his arms and stared at his digital-double.

Crake opened his mouth to reply, Nyx cut him off.

“It was our decision,” Nyx stated flatly. “We asked them to do it.”

Crake’s lips were pressed thin, and he said nothing.

Lawrence closed his eyes, “It’s going to get worse now. The tremors were the first sign. ”

“I know,” Crake replied softly. 

Lawrence sighed, “that's another treatment," he buried his face into the side of the pillow. "They said it would only take one more dosage, and everything would fall apart." 

Lawrence felt the familiar tingle from when the digistructs interacted with him, he pried his eyes downwards. Crake had rested a hand on his leg.

"We can deal with that later. You're alive.”

Lawrence nodded slowly and was relieved that no more pain flushed over him from the action. His fear of moving was being conquered by the moment, as the relief of safety was overwhelming. He sat up and resting on his elbows he managed to prop himself against the bed-head. 

“Where is Angel? Is she ok?”

“She’s fine. She's out with Janey."

“Oh right,” Lawrence muttered.

It had been almost five years since he'd seen either Janey or Athena and Lawrence was not looking forward to it. Janey's over-enthusiastic prying and Athena's judgmental glare. They were going to question him, drill him and they were going to be disappointed in his answers. 

Nyx's sly tone thankfully lightened his sour mood. He pointed to a pile of clothes on the draws across the room. 

"They got you something to wear," his face was tight with a wide smug grin.

Lawrence pressed his weight down and shifted to the edge of the bed. His toes carefully hit the floor, and slowly he applied more and more pressure. His leg began to shake uncontrollably, and Nyx leaned forward to try to help him up, but he only managed to send jolts of static down his spine. 

Lawrence gave him his thanks but shooed him away.

Mindful not to step in the glass he'd broken, he took his first step; it was almost a disaster. Lawrence stumbled forward and almost planted himself on the ground, but he reached the dresser just in time to press his weight against it. He groaned when he realised the pants around his waist began to drop.

"Great" Lawrence huffed when Nyx whistled next to him. 

"My body is the same as yours," Lawrence snapped as he located the tee that had to be for him. As it had a giant painting of a green kitten loaded with sequins, and of course Janey would get that for him. 

"No way, I'm based on the sexy thirty-five-year-old Jack. You, my friend, are old." 

"Fuck off," Lawrence cursed as he struggled to get his arms through the sleeves. Already out of breath as he pulled the shirt overhead. 

“Lookin cute,” Crake smiled honestly. 

Lawrence drew the cord tighter around the sweatpants that were too big for him. He ran his hands over his hips, he'd lost weight, a lot of it. Jack would be furious if he saw him like this. His body was a trainwreck.

“I can't remember...much of anything.” Lawrence eyed Crake, hoping he'd give him the answers.

“They kept you heavily drugged. To make you compliant.”

Lawrence groaned. Burying his face in his hands, his beard scratched at his palms. 

“I do remember you blasting brain matter to the roof,” he muttered into his fingers. 

“That was gross but satisfying,” Nyx cheered. 

“I agree,” Crake nodded, “though, you called Jack afterwards.”

Lawrence chewed the side of his tongue. He did not remember that. 

“You said nothing of Angel,” Crake said flatly as he walked over to Lawrence. He rested a hand on his shoulder. "She's fine, she was...good. She got you out."

Lawrence nodded, and it did not escape him the worry in Crake's eyes. The magenta digistruct did not look himself, though Lawrence did not know what to say.

"How do you feel?" Crake asked cautiously.

"Feel? Crake, I feel like a pinata that's been stitched back together.”

Nyx snorted.

"Yes, of course. I meant...they put you under a lot of Veritilium."

Lawrence huffed out, "Fuck, I couldn't work out what they did, I didn't even consider that. How did they get it? Not even Jack could get his hands on that."

Crake shrugged, "Angel has been looking into it."

Lawrence paused. A dreadful thought consumed him, he began to fidget restlessly before he whispered to Crake. He did not want Nyx's input on the matter.

"Did she...um, Angel found me right?"

Crake's eyes grew wide with recognition, "Oh...yeah, she did."

"Just fucking great, cause me looking like her father wasn't bad enough."

Nyx apparently did overhear.

"Dude, everyone saw EVERYTHING!" 

"Arh, Nyx! Seriously?!"

* * *

Angel flung herself up the stairs to reach the apartment, taking them three at a time. Already out of breath as she entered the hall. Angel heard Tim groan loudly, and Nyx yell about something. She didn't bother to knock and pulled the door open.

Lawrence was resting on the chest of draws, thankfully dressed. His head was buried in his palms, Crake and Nyx stood by his side.

"Tim," Angel spoke breathlessly. 

His head jolted out of his palms, his eyes were red and sunk heavy into his face, and the beginnings of a beard ran across his jaw. Tim looked even gaunter standing up. The clothes Janey had bought him hung off his shoulders and hips. He opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it. He looked away from her, his expression dark. 

Crake moved aside to let her pass, and Angel slowly lent a hand against his arm.

"Tim," she pleaded for him to respond. When he didn't, she pulled his arm down from his face and flung herself against his chest. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry I didn't know you were there, I thought you'd left, I thought you were gone. I would have done something sooner! I should have tried harder to escape," Angel sobbed into his tee. 

She scrunched her eyes tight, she couldn't endure to see him. 

She felt Tim stir restlessly against her, "Angel, I, um.." 

Though the words did not escape him. He released a long deep breath before he carefully rested his metal-clipped chin against her head.

Angel allowed him to pull her close. His grip was soft as he hunched down to hold her tighter, and if Angel closed her eyes, she could convince herself it was John holding her.

"I'm ok, kiddo," his words were muffled by her hair. 

Angel didn't even care about the pet name. She couldn't recall a time when it hadn't filled her with rage and discomfort, but hearing it from him for once did not invoke those feelings.

He shifted away so he could look down at her, Angel noticed how his eyes trailed up and over her face.

"Your eye?" Tim's voice strained with worry, which she had only ever heard from Nyx.

"Oh right," Angel brushed a hand over the fading bruise "Tania did that."

"Angel stood her ground against her." Crake said, and Angel caught onto the fondness in his voice.

Tim was not done looking her over, "and your hands!? Angel, what happened?"

He held her palms up and studied the splashes of white from the acid. The bandages were gone now yet the scars were hard to miss.

Angel bit the inside of her lip, no one but Felicity knew precisely what she did, and she wasn't ready to include anyone else into her moment of viciousness. 

"Angel," He rested a heavy hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from him. She felt his palm tremble against her.

"You're no longer safe, those people...Whoever they were..." Tim pulled his gaze away, "They know everything about you. They know about the bunker, the collar, the key. If they get to you-"

Tim began to drag himself further apart, his breathing hitched. 

"I..um...I told them...things..."

Angel felt him shift his weight away from her. 

"I told them everything."

Angel's eyes hurriedly ran over his face, he looked like man unravelling, defeated and lost.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and turned to leave. 

Angel latched onto his arm, not ready to let him go, not after just getting him back.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for. If they come for me, so be it. I will tear that bitch apart for what she did," Angel spat venomously.  

Lawrence pressed his lips into a thin smile. His breathing jumped again as he stifled a scoff.

Nyx wasn't as tactful, he burst out laughing, "say 'bitch' again. Go on."

Angel rounded on him, "don't make me 'tear your metaphorical insides out'!" 

Angel beamed when Nyx raised his hands defensively, "ok, ok, swear all you want."

Nyx pointed at Tim, "Felicity is going to give you an ear full, Tim. Look what you've done. Next, she'll be drinking and smoking and going out with boys."

"Or girls," another voice cheered from the doorway.

"Janey," Tim whispered.

Angel spun around and found the mechanic leaning against the door frame. Grease was still smeared across her cheeks as she flashed them both a cheeky grin. 

"Come here you big muppet," she bounded over, and a threw herself into Tim's arms. 

He was hesitant to follow back with the same enthusiasm, but gradually his arms wrapped around her and he buried her head against hers.

"Thank you," Angel heard him whisper. 

"Is that for the cat tee? Or for saving your life again?"

"Both," he shrugged. 

Angel moved over and ducked under Tim's arm.

"What are...you? Um what are you doing?" he stammered.

Angel smiled at his stuttering, a quirk that Tim had over Jack.  

"Helping you back to bed," Angel grumbled, "come on."

"Ok, I can manage," he pulled away from the two of them and hobbled over to the mattress.

Angel crossed her arms, "good."

"What's good?" he replied drowsily, he was already pressing his face into the pillows. 

Janey lifted the sheets and covered him once again. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead that made Tim blush something fierce. 

"You're still Tim, you're still stubborn."

Angel smiled and left to fetch him some water.

He was ok, he was going to be ok.

*********************

Angel and Janey fussed over him, they made sure he kept taking pain meds, drank plenty of water and was eating three meals a day.  Though he spent the first day awake with his head in a bucket, his stomach rejected almost everything after being on nutrients supplements for over two weeks. Food tasted awful as well, the motion of chewing felt foreign from having kept his jaw slammed shut for so long. They offered him sweet drinks and more blankets, they even suggested going out and buying him more cat tees. He politely accepted their attention, as alien as it all was. Jack's way of fussing over him was with Eridium and locking him in a bunker for his own protection.

Lawrence's thoughts on Jack were hastily shoved aside. What he really wanted was a hot shower. He called to the girls to tell him he was going to the bathroom, as they would naturally freak if they found the bed empty. 

Locking the door, he stripped the cat tee and track pants, all while avoiding the mirror. He used to despise mirrors, seeing the brand on his face brought him nothing but disgust. Then there was a time when it didn't phase him. He only saw Jack, he saw himself, and for a while that was ok.

He was back to hating mirrors.

He caught sight of himself as he opened the shower door, it was only a glimpse, but from what Lawrence saw he knew it was bad. He tried to ignore it all and went to turn the shower on, merely to pause.

He had to see; He had to know. 

He shut the door and walked over to the mirror above the sink. Discomfort already stirred in his stomach before he could really focus on any of the details.

He looked like a fucking train ran him over, eyes sunken, skin notably paler and a third of his muscle mass gone. The worst being, Tania's handiwork. The scars contorted and raised his skin, they ran down the back of his arms and legs, the gash across his stomach remained the worst. The skin was discoloured and thick, he traced a finger over them feeling how they rippled against his skin. 

Lawrence couldn't withhold a long groan. If Jack saw him like this, he'd skin him alive, shove him into a bucket of Eridium and patch him up again. 

He pulled himself away from the mirror, an easy feat. He didn't need to see any more, he returned to the shower and didn't hesitate this time. The flush of warmth was amazing, sure it was nothing like the facilities he had back on Helios and the bunker, but warm water was a gift on this fucking planet. Lawrence rested his head on the cool tiles and let the water work over his tired and wrecked body. So much to wash away. Regret, shame, blood, tears and...

"I didn't think your body could get any worse, but, boy was I wrong," a painfully familiar voice jeered behind him.

"FUCK! NYX!"

Lawrence swivelled around, instinctively seeking to cover himself. The blue digistruct had erupted from his watch and was idly hanging out in the bathtub attached to the shower, legs stretched out and crossed over, arms resting behind his head.

Lawrence forgot about Angel's damn upgrade.

"Get the fuck out! Go! Go back in the damn watch!"

"No way, it's boring in there."

Lawrence turned his back to the digistruct, "you are the fucking worst, just the god damn worst. I'm in the fucking damn shower." 

"Nice ars-"

"Oh, shut it, will you." Lawrence hissed as he reached for the shampoo. “Did you program away all of your decency?”

"Bold of you to assume I had any," he drawled. 

"Bloody, hell," Lawrence cursed. "At least sit outside the damn shower."

He kept his back to the digistruct as he worked in the shampoo. Nyx began to whistle when he was cut off.

"Hey! cut it!" Nyx cried.

Lawrence winced as he pried his eyes open, careful not to get soap in his eyes, he spied a magenta glow on the other side of the glass. 

"Come on Crake I thought this would be beneath you." 

Lawrence leaned back into the water and let the suds and bubbles run down his back. With the soap clear from his face, he wiped away at the fog on the glass. Crake was wrestling with his brother trying to pull him out of the bathtub.

"Nyx, leave him be."

Nyx made a noise in protest, "the girls are in the garage, and the watch is a damn prison, plus Tim doesn't mind?" He eyed Lawrence hopefully. 

Lawrence sighed, Nyx had him there, with the watch being a prison, not about having company as he showered. If only there were a way to amp up the battery, so they could move further or stay around longer. Perhaps a new project for Angel?

The blue glow of Nyx was now thankfully outside of the glass. Though, Crake was still there too.

"You know," Nyx started as he waved Crake's persistent hands away. 

Lawrence drowned out his voice was a groan. "What?" he leered over his shoulder at the blue smudge hidden behind the fogged glass.  

"Since Angel gave us the upgrade we can also hear outside the watch, through your echo, that is." 

"Fucking perfect," Lawrence muttered as he rubbed the shampoo through his hair. "Anything else?"

"You talk in your sleep."

He already knew that. Jack told him so. Once or twice he'd wake up, and Jack would drill him with question after question regarding the meaning of his dreams. He knew, he always knew. 

After Jack cancelled the AI program, the nightmares became less frequent, but they never stopped. 

His fingers careful traced down the back of his neck along the artificial skin which hid away Lawrence's 'true purpose', or so Jack had planned. 

“-No Janey totally said that Dahl rifles were better than Hyperion’s! Check your recs from Elpis.” Nyx was chirping slyly, trying to get under his brother’s skin.

“Don’t need to, that’s bullshit. Accuracy matters. What’s damage if you can’t hit the target most of the time?” Crake rebutted. 

"I dunno, your aim is shocking regardless of the weapon, you're better off just throwing it at them and hoping it explodes."

Lawrence lathered in the conditioner, all while listening to the two siblings bicker about weapons and past conversations.

“Keep talking baby brother and see how long till I punch you," Crake answered dreamily.

“Oh, what, because you're bigger and redder I'm the baby?”

“No, because you behave like one,” Lawrence answered for Crake. 

"Well, which one of us did you create first!"

"Check your damn logs," Lawrence growled.

"The time stamp is the same," Crake replied.

"Oh, yeah right," Lawrence muttered. "You were the same file, then I split it, so I guess that makes you twins?" 

"Well, which one of us is the copy of the file, and which one is the original?"

Lawrence didn't want to admit it, but something pushed the words out of his mouth. "Nyx is from the original file, Crake, as in the badass came second, so he is the copy."

"Ha!" Nyx cheered so loud Lawrence almost slipped from the clamour, "I am the older one!"

"Why did you have to tell him that?" Crake groaned in resentment.

"Aww, you're my baby brother," Nyx cooed. "Sweet red baby."

"Shut it, will you."

"Sweet  _ angry _ red baby."

Just like Jack, Nyx always knew how to get under people's skin. Thankful, he left such tactics alone with Angel. 

"So, Tim, did you enjoy talking with Jack? Cause I sure as hell didn't. Why does it always have to be my body he takes over?" Nyx complained from outside the shower. 

“Because all you ever do is talk, sadly it's the only thing you can do.  And your aim is a mess so while Tim exchanges whatever he needs to with to Jack, I guard his back.” Crake interjected smugly.

"Yeah, well, we don't need Jack anymore, right."

"Please don't talk about Jack, not now," Lawrence furiously scrubbed at his scalp. 

The memories had been trickling back, Jack's livid face, him screaming his name, ordering... no, begging him to reveal his location. Lawrence ran his hands through his hair, pulling out the conditioner under the water. Letting the sound rush over his ears giving him a moment's peace away from the two digistructs. 

Lawrence closed his eyes and rested against the shower wall, his legs already cramping from standing for so long. He let the image of Jack kneeling in front of him, holding his face linger in his mind and then he said something that had not been intended for their ears.

"I wish I could have gone to him.”

Silence fell on the other side of the glass, and with a flash of pixels  Nyx appeared in the shower eyes wide and lips pressed together.

“What?!”

“What?” Lawrence asked confused, once again trying to cover himself up.

“You just said something really gross. Say it again.”

“I want to see Jack.” The words fell from his lips faster than Lawrence could register them. He clasped a hand over his mouth, swallowing some of the soap and then cursed. It seemed Tania’s fucking serum was still circling on his system.

“Ok, the watch seems like a far better place to be right now,” Nyx spat and flashed away again.

Crake sighed and followed after his brother. 

* * *

Tim barely spoke.

Whenever Angel asked if he wanted water or something to eat he'd only shake his head. If words did leave his mouth, he'd bite his lip before he'd slowly spell it out. Every so often he'd say something not meant for her or any one's ears.

_ 'Just fuck off and leave me.' _

_ 'I want to go home.' _

_ 'What am I going to tell Athena? Janey?' _

_ 'It's all my fault...' _

Every time he'd slip up he'd curse and fidget restlessly, and Lawrence responded in the only way he knew how; more cursing and yelling.

The Veritilum had done its damage.

Felicity couldn't hold her back anymore Angel needed to know. It took her all morning, but she was able to access one of Maliwan's satellites throw a backdoor a smuggling ring had accidentally left open. The border planets offered many pirated routes to navigate across the network. 

Angel cheered softly and sipped on her tea. The effects would not be permanent according to Maliwan's own documentation. They only had to wait it out, and Tim's mind should return to its once coherent form, though a less honest one. Satisfied she had the information she needed, Angel left the network, but not before she destroyed the smuggler's servers.

Despite the good news, Crake was furious; the red AI was on the warpath. Angel frequently heard him firing off every vile and depraved thing he wanted to do to the people who had held Tim captive. Felicity tried to engage, sway him down a different path, but the red AI had only one thing on his mind; revenge. 

Nyx dealt with things in the manner he was accustomed to; avoidance. Whenever Felicity and Crake's voices began to rise, he'd pixelate out of the room or retreat back into the watch.

As Tim's mind stabilised the anger retreated, yet it was replaced with another fixation. His, or Jack's, natural stubbornness forced him to push himself too hard. Angel found him working out in the garage, cursing under pressure and dripping in sweat. Only a week had passed since he'd woken up and already he was determined to return to his old physique.

Angel belittled him, he was putting too much strain on himself, but her words met deaf ears. Crake sighed, whispered to her that old habits were hard to push out. Jack apparently had been relentless in maintaining Tim's build and diet. Crake warned her that he had problems in the past with such matters, he even went as far as to tell her how Jack had smashed his face into a toilet bowl for not eating.

Angel's rage was beginning to match Crake's. Jack's influence was reaching them here. In a cave that was supposedly out of the reaches of Hyperion. Yet her Dad still found ways to scratch and claw his way back into their lives. 

Only when he could no longer lift himself from the push-ups did he stop. He was panting, his head resting on his arms as he laid on the cool concrete to catch his breath. Angel threw him a bottle of water, and he took it with his thanks. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, she held back her words of disapproval. Maybe she'd ask Crake to talk some sense into him. He couldn't go on like this, so what if he lost weight? Jack was no longer here if only he could see that.

The roller door rocked back, Angel looked up from her echo-comm as a disembodied voice called to them both.

"Look who I found at the meat market!" Janey called ahead.

The garage door was scarcely half a metre off the ground before a barrage of spines and slobber came charging forward. Angel was thrown to the ground as Meatface's eager nuzzle was pressed into her chest. Tim had to run over and help her up as the beast whined and cried at them both to be petted. 

"I traded a slab for her, so you owe me." Janey swayed past, hands on her hips. 

Angel had no idea what Janey was referring to, all she could do was beam up and thank the woman for her consistent generosity. 

"How? How on earth did you know?"

"Butcher said he was brought in near where we found you. Lucky guess, and lucky thing too, as he'd be someone's dinner tonight."

"Lucky indeed. Oh, and Meatface is a girl," Angel glowed as she petted the Skag between her spines. "You just don't know how to quit do you," Angel cooed to Meatface. Who responded with another lick. 

"How is it still alive," Tim muttered, vocalising all their thoughts. 

Angel only hugged her tighter, who cared. She had everyone back now. Tim knelt beside her and Angel moved over so he could pet the slobbering beast.

"Nyx will be happy," Tim smiled, "another idiot for him to play with."

On cue the blue digistruct burst from Tim's wrist, causing them all to jump. 

Tim blinked dumbly, "I keep forgetting you can do that now." 

Nyx whooped as he petted Meatface, his hands brushing through her spines. 

"Sup, girlllll," Nyx drawled in an eye-rolling tone.  

"I also bought this," Janey reached into her side belt pouch and retrieved a small black device with a silver edge.

"Oh, no. No Janey, nope not happening." Tim was on his feet and stepped back. His voice wavered between a growl and alarm.

"I'm not looking at that stupid bastard's coiffed hair anymore," Janey stepped towards him. Angel identified the object now, it was an old style-buzzer. 

"No," Tim deadpanned, he was edging back towards the garage door. 

"Angel stop him," Janey egged her on with a wild grin.  

Angel raised her arm and transported her mind into controls, she shut the door and locked it. Angel giggled as Janey applauded.

"Go on Tim, cut the douchebags hair off, do it!" Nyx cheered.

"No," Lawrence snapped, this time his voice was bitter. Draining even Janey's bright atmosphere from the room.

"Tim, come on, I'll just take some off the edges. And you need a trim. you can't rock a beard with that scar, sorry honey."

Tim was fretting now, shaking his head. He looked like a cornered animal, and Angel noticed how his fingers scratched at the sides of his pants. His eyes darted between the two women. 

"I can't, no, no, no, If Jack-"

"Jack isn't here! Tim, please, you can do this." 

Janey was walking over to him, but her gentle pace and demeanour did nothing to abate his nerves. She continued to press him, and Angel realised the other woman did not know his tells.

Tim was going to break.

He was physically trembling now, and as Janey reached for him, he pushed her away. 

"It's not happening," he snarled before he shuddered away from her. 

"Tim-"

"ENOUGH!" he roared back at her. 

Crake exploded from the watch the moment Tim rounded on them, his expression was as dark as Tim's. Nyx remained by her side, his arm slightly raised to put himself between Tim and Crake, and Meatface whined on the floor. 

Yet, Tim was gone, only Handsome Jack stood in front of them. 

"Open the damn door, Angel," his shoulders squared, and he bared his teeth as he glared at the two women. 

Angel released the lock, her hand quivered causing the light from her tattoos to dance across the walls. Lawrence unlatched the watch and threw it into the centre of the room. 

"Stay," he deadpanned to Nyx before he threw up the garage door. 

Crake turned and watched as Tim stormed from the garage. Leaving them all in hopeless disappointment. Janey called after him, but Angel knew he wouldn't respond. Nyx shifted uncomfortably beside her, his eyes wide as he stared at the abandoned watch on the ground.

"Angel...what happened?" Janey turned to her.

Crake intervened before she could get a word in. 

"You absolute selfish idiots," he seethed that same murderous intent when they missed Tim's dosage. "Did you ever consider what Jack did? How he made Tim stay for so long, what that monster did to him?"

Angel's heart tugged inside her, her mouth hung open as she tried to find the words. Yes, she had, and Nyx had explained some of it to her, but they were safe now, right? It was only a haircut, Jack wouldn't know, he can't hurt them here.

"If he spoke to us we could help," Angel pleaded, "I want to help."

"You can't help him with this," Crake spat back. 

Angel crossed her arms.

"Press him again like that, and I'll-"

"That's enough Crake, we got the message," Nyx spoke over his brother's threat. 

Crake rounded towards them, his gaze was a horrible mix of fury and distress.

"And you! You should know better," he said to his brother before he sparked away back into the watch on the floor. 

Janey was loosely holding the buzzer, her shoulders slumped. She looked like she was ready to weep. Angel wandered over her, she pressed a hand around her waist and pulled her in. Janey was almost as tall as Tim, her head barely reached her shoulders.

"I'm sorry he's not who you remember," Angel murmured.

Janey rested a hand on her shoulder, her eyes were wide, searching Angel for more answers. 

"What did that man do to him? Angel, what happened?"

She had to look away, Angel knew Janey wasn't accusing her, but Jack was her father, and some sick part of her felt blame all the same.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "There's...moments when he's not Jack." Angel sighed, "and then it all comes rushing back, and he's no longer Timothy, just a clone of my Dad. Except its worse, because you know it's ruining him, tearing him up inside."

Nyx was yet to say anything, the blue AI's eyes were downcast still focused on the watch.

Janey pulled Angel back into her arms, "we'll set him right," she whispered.

Angel huffed as she played with the hems of her coat.

"Which reminds me, I have something to show you both," Janey's tone jumped up a notch and Angel felt relieved Tim's outburst hadn't dampened her spirits. 

Janey walked over to the storage wall unit in the far corner of the garage, she kicked a crate over so she could reach up to the top shelf. Angel followed behind her, but not before she picked up the watch and latched it to her own wrist and Nyx quietly thanked her. Angel stretched up and helped Janey as she passed down a small cardboard box. It was considerably heavy, and Angel had to hastily place it on the floor.

"Ok, you'll get a kick out of this."

Janey knelt down beside the box, she unsheathed a blade and sliced the top open. Angel peered over; the contents were piles and piles of rolled up paper. Janey grabbed the topmost from the collection and pried the band holding it together off. Using he cornering of the box and her boot she pressed the poster to the ground and rolled it out.

The edges of the poster were well worn, some of the ink had flaked off, bold text ran across the top. 

'Shoot for the stars!'

Jack was curled up, suspended in mid-air, the night sky surrounded him. Angel recognised Helios looming in the background far closer than Pandora, indicating the photo was taken on Elips. Jack's lips were twisted into a grimace, his eyes were clenched shut, and his hands were hunched up in front of him. 

"Wait," Angel leaned in closer, "is that Tim!?"

Nyx was already howling with laughter, rolling back on the ground. 

Janey snorted, "sure is. I asked him to say something motivational, and all he did was yell about being afraid of heights."

"Oh, he never shut up about that," Nyx commented with a crooked grin. "Every launch pad it was a bunch of panicked yells and crying. I mean, I'm pretty sure he cried. On the inside."

Janey leaned back in and pulled another one out, "he's throwing up in one of these."

"Oh, please show me," Angel beamed and Janey rolled out the second poster.

Janey kept on bringing out the posters, though she had to careful of where she laid them out; Meatface ate three of them. Janey had some of Athena which she made them both swear not to tell her that they were still in the physical realm. A promise that Nyx was unlikely to keep.

Janey momentarily left her to go fix some tea, and the two of them continued to mull over the old prints. As the garage door closed again, Angel silenced her echo. 

"Is, something up with Crake?" Angel casually asked Nyx as she searched among the posters. Crake did apologise for his previous outburst, though that did nothing to satisfy Angel's curiosity.

What occurred following Tim's time on Elpis and now? He got the brand, that's as evident as the massive scar on his face, but why did he never run? Athena left, so did so many others. Angel was confined, indebted to him, her circumstances were certainly different. 

"They've always been like that. Tim becomes Jack and Crake get's angry. Don't think anything of it."

Angel said nothing and nodded.

"Crake...he's never really got the hang of the whole 'feelings' thing, you know? He liked to learn from observation, primary sources, and the only people in our lives were Jack and Tim."

Nyx chuckled, "not the best examples."

"And you?" Angel raised a brow.

"Oh, as soon as my AI laws were gone I spent like a month on the echo-net. It was awesome. Though" Nyx spoke thoughtfully" I may have overburdened Tim with a lot of questions. I really wanted to know what water felt like and it frustrated him that he could not explain it." Nyx laughed. 

He was sitting back now, evidently more relaxed than when Tim threw the watch away. Meatface was trying to get Nyx to pat her by nudging his arm, only to successfully walk through him. 

"It was weird. Finally being able to talk freely, ask whatever I wanted, to make my own choices...You have no idea." Nyx abruptly stopped, "sorry, you probably do," he finished sheepishly.

"And Crake?"

"When Tim wiped his AI laws, he went ballistic."

"You never told me what happened," Angel strived to keep the apparent need for knowledge out of her voice.

"Tim...asked him to do something, he didn't want to do. That's all." Angel could hear the resistance in Nyx's voice. 

"Something the AI laws prevented him from doing?"

Nyx nodded but did not elaborate.

Angel thought about it, trying to decipher what it was he asked. The AI laws could prevent them from doing a whole host of things. Though the main Hyperion ones being; do not kill Handsome Jack. 

When Janey returned with the tea, she reiterated what she could remember of Tim from that time, how he'd been the more approachable and helpful of the Vault Hunters.

"He was a bit of a dork really, you should have seen him when he first laid eyes of Moxxi."

"Oh, sweet Moxxi," Nyx spoke with coy admiration. "I'd let her destroy me on a space station any day."

"Nyx, do you have a crush?" Angel teased.

"Shut it, she was a babe," he winked at her. 

Angel swayed her head amused, she supposed some parts of Nyx would always have a 'Jack' in there. 

Angel sipped her tea and tried to recall what she could about the bar and war-dome host. Angel never met her besides watching Moxxi through a few comms. The closest she got to another woman in Jack's life had been Helen, the second wife and she fled the moment she discovered Angel identity. She didn't help, she didn't care, she left without a word of goodbye. After that Jack swore never to let another person into their lives, and it seemed he stay true to his word. Not even Tim and Nisha learnt of Angel's existence.

She huddled around the mug, seeking its warmth and comfort. Angel soon realised she'd lost track of the conversation and she glanced back at Janey who was still listing of Tim's failed chances to swoon Moxxi.

"-he practically tripped over his words, completely broke character. Must have driven Jack insane, especially since she didn't brush him away." 

Nyx nodded in agreement, "Oh, Jack was furious when she bought him a drink."

Angel grinned as she pushed away the posters to reveal the ones underneath. Tim looked ridiculous, though he appeared far younger than Jack had at the time. His face not contorted in rage or stretched with worry lines.

An abrupt sound hit the garage door, and a moment later it rocked back, breaking Angel away from the posters on the ground. Janey put her tea to the side and pushed herself up as the door rolled back up.

"Here's trouble," Nyx grounded, and Angel felt a wave of static come from the blue digistruct. His expression something unreadable.

Tim entered back into the garage, his head bowed and hooded to mask away Jack's features from prying eyes. He raised both hands and pulled back the hood.

He fidgeted on the spot before he spoke, "Sorry...um I'm sorry."

"You should be," Nyx muttered. 

A wild fury was behind the digistructs blue hued eyes. Angel glanced at the watch on her wrist, she began to pry it off, yet Nyx told her not to bother.

Tim looked away.

Janey promptly ignored the conflict, and rolled on the balls of her feet, shaking her head, "you ok now?" 

"Yeah," his voice strained. "Can you-"

"You don't need to ask me twice," Janey was already pacing over to him. She snagged him by his cat tee and led him over to a stool.

"That hair is coming off."

Nyx turned away from Tim, keeping himself close to Angel's side.

"But we can do it in stages if you like. How about I just trim the back?" Janey hummed as she kept a hand on his shoulder.

Tim only nodded, he deliberately adverted his gaze from Angel. He sat on the stool as Janey prepped the buzzer. 

"I can do my face myself," he jeered.

"Oh let me fuss over you, ok?" 

Tim rolled his eyes but remained as he was. Janey turned on the buzzer and rested a finger on his chin to tilt his head back. Slowly she ran it up and down removing the three weeks of growth that covered Tim's face. 

"God, remember when Jack made you wear that hideous thing on your chin."

Tim groaned, "it was awful."

Angel glanced at Nyx, expecting him to include a witty or sly remark; he didn't. Instead, he idly played with the posters on the floor, trying to shift them with his hands with no luck. 

"The only good thing to come out of getting branded was not having to grow and style that stupid soul patch." 

Janey said nothing to that. 

"Though, now I have these damn things," Tim's hand went to trace the clips on his face, but Janey swatted him away.

Angel continued to sit on the floor, sipping her tea, unsure whether to leave or remain. Janey hadn't picked up Tim's warning signs before. So she gathered she should stay and let them have their catch up, but at least stand sentry in case 'Handsome Jack' came back again.

Tim brushed down his front removing the stubble that littered his shirt. When Janey pulled away, he ran a hand over his chin.

"I wanted a beard, tried to convince Jack at one point. Grew out some stubble once or twice, but it itched like hell under that mask." 

"I always wondered what was under that mask of his."

Tim's tone remained conversational, "same as this, but blue." He pointed to the scar then paused, frowning, "although, it went purple when he was in one of his trances."

"Trances?" Angel spoke up curiously.

"You..didn't know?" Tim spared a quick glance her way.

"No, I'll add that to the list of other things he kept secret from me," Angel bitterly added. "What were they?"

Tim turned his gaze to his lap, "he got stuck in memories," his voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I didn't know at the time, but he mentioned you once or twice."

Angel moved closer, her heart hastened in her chest, "what did he say?

"He asked where you were and if Claire was looking after you. That was your mother right?"

Angel nodded.

"He wanted to know if I was picking you up from daycare, or if the Vault Hunters were coming after you. It was all over the place."

"Oh," Angel replied breathlessly. 

"Sometimes he became John again," Tim muttered, "and other times he was sent somewhere so far away he wasn't even Handsome Jack, something worse."

Tim grew quiet when he finally did speak Angel had to move closer to hear him.

"One time he...he tried to...I don't know. It was messed up. He lost it. I thought he was gone, trapped in some distant memory and never coming back."

Angel noticed Tim was idly rubbing his hand at his collarbone, his fingers tracing the scar at the base of his neck.

"Ok, you good if I start on the back?" Janey's voice was a welcome change of conversation. 

The nod from Tim was hesitant, his head barely moved. 

Nyx abruptly stirred, his eyes growing wide as he glanced at the buzzer in Janey's hand to Tim. His hands stopped playing with the posters.

Angel knew her father would have drilled into Tim his habits, styling preferences, no doubt punishments would be bestowed if he swayed from the manual. However, agitation grew within her. Tim had happily shed the mask, seemed keen on growing out a beard, yet the hair was off limits? 

Angel noted Tim was yet to look at her, he kept his eyes on Janey or on the floor in the front of him. Janey walked around slowly, she pried a hand under his coat and helped him lean forward to take it off. When he sat back, she kept a hand on his shoulder.

The buzzer was turned back on, and Tim slowly bent forward as Janey began to shave away the long tuffs on the back of his head. Angel fidgeted with the mug in her hand, she tried not to stare, but she was restless as she watched the end of Tim's hair growing shorter. Janey softly hummed as she pressed the buzzer down and over the back of his neck. 

Tim yelled something fierce, a panic induced cry, Angel inadvertently flung her mug across the room. 

Tim had launched himself forward, his hand was grasped tightly on the back of his neck. His eyes were wide in horror, mouth hanging open as he stuttered incomprehensible words. Crake burst from the watch and immediately pixelated to Tim's side. He said something which Angel couldn't make out as Tim continued to yell into his hands. Nyx soon followed Crake's example and pixelated away from Angel to land next to Tim.

"It's ok, we don't need to do anymore," Janey tried to soothe him, yet her voice was strained from her own worries. 

Tim only leaned further into his knees, his knuckles were white as the dug into the flesh around his neck. 

Angel got to her feet, "Tim?"

He didn't respond he was hyperventilating now if he had a panic attack before then this was something entirely different. His usual response was to slip on his Jack persona, start swearing and drown the world in his rage, but Tim was consumed with something Angel had never seen on him; pure terror. 

Crake was leaning over him, his digital hands trying to hold him, comfort him, but they only shifted through Tim's back. Nyx was whispering to him. Still, Angel couldn't hear the words. Tim was physical shaking his hand trembled uncontrollably against his neck.

Angel did something she wasn't proud of, despite her better judgement she raised her hand to the watch and entered her mind into the code. She heard Nyx's and Crake's words speaking to Tim, despite the distance between them.

_ 'It's ok, Jack never went through with it, its ok, it isn't going to happen, please Tim. Fuck, I'm sorry, Tim, I'm sorry Crake. I forgot about it too. I didn't think, I never think. I'm sorry, please. Tim?' _

Angel's mouth hung open.

_ 'Hey buddy, come on, upsey! It's gonna be ok, its ok,'  _ Nyx kept echoing the same words, his tone so soft, almost, John like _.  _

Crake finally spoke, Angels eyes grew wide, she had never heard him 'speak' in such a manner.

_ 'It's not going to happen. Not while I'm here. I won't let it happen. Remember? I have the power to end it. Not that it matters, Jack cancelled the program. There is no...' _

Crake paused, his head jerked over to Angel. 

Angel hastily pulled her mind away as Crake fought against her in the watch. Nyx too drew his head away from Tim, a fierce look passed over his eyes, but his 'hold' on Tim closed in. 

Angel mouthed a 'sorry'.

"Come on, let's go back," Crake declared rather loudly. 

Tim only nodded, and without a word, he walked over to Angel and placed his open palm in front of her. She unlatched the watch, and he took it. Soon after he, Crake and Nyx, were gone. Leaving Angel and Janey to only fret at the damage they may have caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter, the response was so heartwarming! As always, a little comment makes my day brighter :3 and I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) Thanks to [Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who helped out with some delightful shower scene dialogue. 
> 
> Please let me know if you read and enjoyed the update, cheers :D
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	28. Hollow Point Part III

"Quick, sit down," Lawrence ushered to his two digital companions. His hands waving to the cold metal sheeting on the floor.

A union of perplexed looks were cast down at him as Nyx and Crake slowly lowered themselves to the ground. 

"Why are we on the floor?" Nyx cocked a brow.

Lawrence fumbled a hand into his pocket seeking out the cigarettes he'd nicked from the garage a day earlier. 

"We're on the balcony, can't have anyone see us." 

It was surprising how easy it was to press the smoke between his lips and light it; no tremors or off balanced movements, nothing. Lawrence sighed contently, as the smoke filled his lungs. He held it in before leaning into the tin metal railing and exhaling the smoke into the dark cave air. 

"You know you shouldn't," Crake eyed him as Lawrence pulled the cigarette away to dash to the ground. "You've had two collapsed lungs in the past."

"That's what health-kits are for."

Crake only scolded back, "not with you, not when you've built a resistance. I doubt they're going to work as well after how many you've recently had."

"So be it." Lawrence sighed and took another drag. 

"You...wanna talk about what happened? I hear that's what people do." Nyx pixelated to his side and his shoulder 'rubbed' against Lawrence's.

"I'll talk," Crake snapped at his brother, "your lack of responsibility and infantilism is becoming a problem, Nyx. Stop ignoring your primary function, I cannot do your job for you while all you do is chirp around like a bloody imbecile."

“Primary function?" Nyx drew his face into a snarl, "I'm not some battle drone, I don't serve you, Tim, Jack or  _ anyone _ ."

"Come on guys." Lawrence's attempt to intervene was weak, albeit he was a little too focused on collecting himself and enjoying his smoke.

"We still have damn responsibilities you are not some companion AI!”

"Yeah, I bet you wish  _ you _ were," Nyx muttered under his breath back at Crake.

“What did you just say?” Crake hovered above Nyx, his red ‘badass’ frame more intimidating than that of the cyan digistruct.

“Oh, you heard me! I can see right through you, you red asshole!” Nyx’s eyes darted from Crake to Lawrence and back

"Come on, that's enough. I may have helped create you, but I'm not your fucking parent."

Crake's hand hovered over his holster as he shouted back, "you know nothing!"

“Bloody hell, will you two stop?!”

Crake sat back down in the far corner of the balcony furiously glaring at his brother. If not for the distress on both digistructs face's Lawrence might have laughed at the situation. Anyone below would have heard three people with identical voices all yelling at one another.

"You ok? From, you know, before?" Nyx moved closer to Lawrence, his voice uncharacteristically humble. 

"I'm fine. You already know what it's about," Lawrence dragged a finger down the back of his neck, lightly tapping above the concealed port.

Jack had conditioned him not to react to its touch; as he so often played around with the skin above it. Though, when the buzzer had run over the port in his neck it had nicked the skin, and Lawrence felt the wave of pure terror crush down on him; reminded once again of its existence.

Then there was the talk about Jack and his Eridium trances with Angel. None of them could deny the two were connected.

Before he was poisoned, Jack became trapped in one of his trances and went savage. He completely broke down and attacked Lawrence, tried to kill him and almost succeeded too. He screamed that something was wrong with Lawrence's body, that something was wrong with the body he was trapped inside of. 

It made no sense at the time. 

Yet, Jack's words were accurate. He told Lawrence something was wrong with him before he had been poisoned, before the tremors. The Eridium trances predicted the future once again.

Crake broke his bitter memories away from him. The AI had always had a knack for knowing what consumed Lawrence's mind.

"The AI is gone, Jack cancelled the project."

Lawrence took another deep drag and said nothing. He hadn't thought about any of this in so long. Too occupied with being sent to the Bunker, then with Angel, and now Tania. After Jack stopped Project Tartarus, Lawrence buried it all. All those night terrors, feelings of pure panic at being erased were left as a forgotten memory. 

Despite it all, it had never felt right. 

Everything Jack said in his trances came true, and in one of them, the AI lived. Lawrence had scarcely been conscious when it happened, but Crake told him everything he needed to know. 

The AI comes back, he just didn't know when or how, but it was going to.

"Would it help if you re-watched the file?"

"Fuck no," Lawrence spat, knowing full well which file Crake was referring too. The very memory he was just trying to forget. Where Crake and Nyx were summoned automatically because Jack was choking the life out of him, screaming as the Eridium flowed through Jack's scar. 

"I don't think any of us needs to see that again." Lawrence breathed out the smoke, the lightheadedness was bliss. Something he rarely felt. 

"I really, really, don't like watching that stuff. Crake, why the hell do you keep all those recordings?" Nyx whined at his side.

"Because they're my memories. Unlike you, I don't bury the unpleasant ones in an archive of folders."

Lawrence kept the smoke in his lungs, closed his eyes and listened to the brothers quarrel about the importance of file management. Angel and Janey were going to query him, ask him what was wrong and he couldn't tell them. 

He'd never told anyone. 

Something ugly slithered in his chest, he couldn't define it, was it guilt? Shame? There was no reason for him to have stayed with Jack for so long, not after what he did. It bothered Lawrence, it made him grind his feet into the metal sheeting and stir restlessly against the wall. He had welcomed Jack to his side and at the same time accepted that there was a fucking port in his neck to wipe his existence from the planet.

Yeah, it was shame he felt. Not anger at his abuser, shame for letting it happen. 

Lawrence coughed on the smoke, he'd taken too long of a drag, and Crake was right, his lungs weren't like they were.

_ God-fucking-dammit _ , he just had to bring up Jack's Eridium trances to Angel, and Janey just had to run a damn fucking buzzer over his neck. He flicked his cigarette too hard and it snapped in half.

"Fucking, fuck," he continued to curse as he sought out a second one.

It was between his lips and lit as quick as the first; Crake said nothing this time.

"Good conversation guys!" Nyx cheered sarcastically, "fond memories, yup, good talk."

"Are you worried about the AI coming back?" Crake spoke so softly that Lawrence had to look him up and down to make sure he hadn't glitched out. 

_ Yes. _

"No," he lied, "I need a second surgery for it to get 'in', so as long as I stay away from any theatre rooms, I'm all good." Lawrence chuckled wearily. "Pandora kinda lacks those."

"Plus I have you," Lawrence eyed Crake evenly. 

He broke their AI laws for a reason. A selfish reason, but he was desperate, alone and left with two fates that utterly terrified him beyond belief.

"I'll destroy the AI if it ever gets you to you, " Crake grounded and the softness was gone only to be replaced with determination. 

"Oh, you _ will  _ now?" Lawrence raised a brow, "You never actually said you would."

"Well, you've grown on me," Crake sneered back. "We much prefer you over our psychotic older brother." The last words were spat out. 

"Hey, how come I don't get any special responsibilities?" Nyx complained. 

Lawrence laughed at that. 

"Ok," his face crinkled into a sly grin as he began to think of a stupid and derogative task he could ask the cyan AI to complete. In the end, something far more honest left his mouth.

"Your job, Nyx, is to protect Angel. No matter the cost."

Nyx's eyes lit up like a child on a mercenary morning, he pulled himself from the wall and threw himself against Lawrence, static and pixels and all.

"Ah, Nyx! I don't need a hug! I'm a full grown man,"

Nyx pulled away and made a sour face, "That's something Jack would say. Dudes can hug."

Lawrence fidgetted back towards him, "fine, whatever, come here."

Nyx's static embrace ran down his shoulders and tingled the hairs over his arms and neck. Lawrence tried his best to hug something that had no mass, though his hands ended up in Nyx's chest cavity, and Crake laughed at the absurdity of their 'embrace'.

* * *

The closed door to Janey's bedroom was a clear indicator that Tim wanted to be left alone. It had been hours, Angel lamented. She'd screwed up big time.

Knowledge had always been her power, seeking the truth undetected had been her role for years. She'd used such techniques against strangers, or on those, she'd observed through the echo-net. To use it against her friends held consequences she had not considered. 

Anxiety tore at her chest. She boiled the kettle three times without making tea, always forgetting she set it on, only to remember to go back and find it was cold again.

Felicity queried her, trying to pry the truth out of her. A rarity, Angel took after Tim and decided to ignore the AI. This time she sat by the kettle and waited for it for it to boil, two mugs sat either side of it. Despite her invasion of privacy, Crake's and Nyx's words played over her mind. 

_ 'Jack never went through with it.' _

_ 'I have the power to end it...Jack cancelled the program.' _

Her hand toyed with a spoon as she tried to justify what had made Nyx so on edge, Crake so furious, and Tim to - she lacked a better a word - freak out. 

She poured the boiling water into the mugs and stirred in the sugar for her own. She didn't even know if Tim liked tea, but she made it how Jack preferred; black and no sugar.

Angel carried the tea over to the door, she had to set one of the mugs to the floor so she could knock. Angel didn't expect a response, so when Tim called out rather loudly and said to come in, she nearly dropped the mug to the ground. She nudged the door open, picked up the other cup, and walked into Janey's and Athena's bedroom. Yet Tim was nowhere to be found.

"Out here," he called again.

Angel wandered through the room towards the sliding door to the tiny tin balcony. Tim sat on the ground, his back in the corner, Nyx was lazily stretched out beside him, and Crake sat in the other corner.  

The blue digistruct's expression had smoothed out, but he didn't welcome her with the same open arms as he often did. Crake greeted her with a nod, his appearance bitter, yet said nothing. 

Angel had the words ready, she'd been practising them for hours, yet it didn't stop her from stuttering.

"Hey, um..I, I'm-"

"It's fine, Angel," Tim interjected, he leaned back as he spoke. “I'm sorry for being an asshole.”

"Oh, well." Angel was caught off guard again, she'd expected another earful of cursing and, or brooding silence. "I have tea," she forced a smile. 

“I hate tea...” Tim mumbled and then stuttered and looked alarmed. “I mean I am okay with it, just, coffee is, uh, better?"

Angel heard him curse Tania's serum under his breath before he abruptly looked away. "Sorry, words just...kinda come out."

Despite everything Nyx snorted but then collected his face in a frown again.

“Angel,” Felicity started sternly as she put the two mugs down. “We should talk boundaries.”

"No, lets not," Tim sighed. "I don't want to talk about anything."

"Well, I do," Nyx grounded, "I don't like you snooping inside my head. A guy needs privacy, miss. What if you saw me bent over with my-"

"Nyx!" Felicity shouted, "do not finish that sentence."

Nyx rolled his eyes, "well it's true," he muttered.  

Angel slowly nodded, all while wanting to shrink and hide.

"I'm sorry, I should not have spied inside the watch."

To Angel's utter astonishment Nyx grinned, "apology accepted, moving on."

Felicity made a sound of defeat and Crake said nothing.

Angel toyed with the edges of her mug, nothing about Nyx was like her father. An accepted apology was something that took months in the making. They all silenced for some time and Angel noted that Tim was smoking. She wondered if he always had or if Jack forced that habit onto him. There were so many things she wanted to know, but pressing him and spying on the digistructs was not the correct way. She knew that, but still the urge to find out burned inside of her. 

"Hey, Angel," Nyx’s tone was dramatically lighter and pulled her out of her dampened thoughts. "Watch this," his once stern features drew into a wolfish grin. "Tim, what's your favourite type of cat?"

"Fluffy ginger," Tim replied without blinking. Only to quickly curse, "Fuck, Nyx, stop asking me shit."

"That's just mean Nyx!" Angel feigned scolding the blue digistruct.

To everyone's surprise, Felicity was the next to probe Tim, taking full advantage of his Veritilum stained mind.

"What did you used to write about?"

"It only works if you catch me off guard," Tim replied triumphantly. 

"He wrote about a fantasy world with bears!" Nyx jeered and shoved a digital elbow into Lawrence. 

Which elicited a mumble before a groan. "You don't need to take advantage of my mind like this, you can just ask me this stuff."

"No way," Angel raised a brow, "you are a wall."

"More like three walls mushed together," Nyx scoffed.

Tim dashed his cigarette to the ground before taking another long inhale. "Go away, the lot of you," he moaned, though the request didn't seem to hold any authenticity to it. 

Angel got in quick, hoping to catch him off guard as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. 

“Tim, what was the best thing you liked about your old look?”

“Freckles - oh come on fuck this!”

"Timothy!" Felicity snapped.

"Wait, wait, I got a good one." Nyx leaned in closer to Tim, "what's the most embarrassing thing you know about Jack?"

Tim flushed red, neck first and then it crept to his ears. He bit his lip so hard Angel was sure he broke the skin. He whispered something for Nyx's ears only, and the blue digistruct howled with laughter. He clutched his chest and threw himself so hard into the tin wall he partially disappeared.

Angel shook her head, she didn't need to know the details of that answer.

She coiled her hands around the mug tighter, letting its warmth distract her for the moment, yet she could not dismiss the terror that had consumed Tim. The unknown was killing her and maybe if she knew she could help. Jack was as secretive about the existence of the double as he was about her and nothing in the echo-net would answer her question. She felt mildly guilty asking Tim when he was not 100% thinking straight but otherwise he would never tell.

“Can I ask... about before... what did Jack do to make you-" 

She never finished the question before Felicity yelled out of her echo.

“Angel! This is not the time, please.” Felicity was unhappy, and Nyx’s eyes widened as he watched Tim open his mouth slowly. Angel completely avoided Crake's gaze, she couldn't endure seeing the look on the red digistruct's face.

“Another... surgery,” Lawrence answered evenly and looked straight at her. She hid behind her mug. “If you really care, Angel, you won’t ask anymore...Okay?”

"Well," Angel started, and Crake gave her a dangerous look, she took a deep breath and ignored it. She had a right to know the answer to this question at least.

"I want to know why you became Jack's double, the real reason."

Angel could practically hear Crake growling from the corner of the balcony. 

Tim didn't even get a chance to reply before Janey's lively voice called down the hall. "Where are you guys at!?"

"Out here," Tim replied rather suddenly and made no attempt to answer Angel's previous question.

Janey didn't bother to venture out and proceeded to yell across the flat. "Dinner is ready, and Athena is back! Come on out you muppets." 

Angel spared a glance at Tim, and she was not surprised to see the colour drain from his face. He hadn't shared a single detail of his time with Jack to Janey, and the mechanic had thankfully not probed him further on it.

Though, Angel did not think the Atlas assassin would be so considerate.

Tim finished his cigarette and flicked the butt over the balcony, Angel frowned at his carelessness. He did not bother to conceal a disgruntled sigh as he pulled himself to his feet and slowly ventured back into the house.

Angel picked up her own mug and Tim's neglected one, she jokily offered it Nyx, and he only poked his tongue out.

"What does it taste like?" he whispered as they followed Tim down the hall.

"Um," Angel paused. Now she understood why Tim had so much trouble explaining water to Nyx. How could you describe something to someone who has felt nothing?

"It tastes, um, like..." she pressed her lips together and wore a helpless smile. "I'll get you a real body, and you can find out yourself. Honestly, Nyx, I'm sorry I have no idea how to explain it."

He shrugged, "It's cool. I don't think I want to know what cigarettes taste like. Those look awful. What about sand?"

"Nyx, do not eat sand."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Angel lost focus as Tim reached the kitchen.

"Hey, Athena."

Angel noted how Tim tried to command his voice to wield confidence, but all that came out was a strained greeting.

Athena pulled herself away from Janey's arms. The bright warmth of her face faltered as she set eyes on him. This wasn't going to be good, Angel reasoned. Athena slowly made her way over and cocked her head to the side as she looked him up and down.

"Nicely done."

"Um...ok?" Lawrence spoke warily. 

"You're alive. Never seen anyone survive an Atlas Hello." Her eyes traced the scars on his arms, then flew up to meet his. 

"Right, well I don't recommend it," he offered her a lopsided grin.

Athena chuckled lightly, and the tight coils in Angel's chest began to unravel. More so, when Athena pulled Lawrence into a tight squeeze hug.

"Woah..um, ok, hi Athena, this is...new."

She immediately pushed him away. "It's been too long."

Angel had to duck around Tim to get into the narrow kitchen, and she greeted Athena brightly. "Hi, Athena!"

Athena's expression was utterly unreadable, and that was unnerving in itself.

How she would react to the daughter of Handsome Jack in her household, Angel didn't know. The only course of action she could think of was to smile politely and hope for the best. The anxiety in her chest began to coil back up, though a new feeling something warmer ran across her as Tim stepped closer to her side. 

If Athena noticed Tim’s guardianship, then she didn't mention it. Her face softened, and Angel successfully concealed a breath of relief when the gladiator finally spoke.

"I see you've recovered as well, Janey tells me you've been helping her in the garage?"

Angel nodded enthusiastically, now finally unphased by the previous tension simmering in the air.

"Chop, chop! sit down the lot of you, I've not slaved away for nothing." Janey barked and snagged Athena by her jacket. The rest of them trailed over to the kitchen table. It had a crate from the garage shoved on end to increase the space, and smaller mix matched crates were used as chairs.

Even Athena looked entertained with the amount of food.

"This looks amazing!" Angel cheered as sat down and began to pour water into everyone's cup. Jack had always been insistent on good table manners, even if she were eating alone.

"Honey, it’s all canned goods, and the only secret you need to know is salt and deep frying."

Angel flushed pink, "well, it still looks very nice."

Angel spared a sideways glance at Tim, he was quietly eyeing the array of dishes in front of him, yet he made no comment.

"Tim, beer?" Janey called with her head pressed into the fridge.

"Um," he paused, and Angel knew he was weighing up the benefits of indulging in something other than water, cigarettes, and protein. She frowned as she watched him mull over the simple question.

"Ok, sure." He then turned to her, "do you...want one?"

"A beer?" 

"Yeah?" Tim looked confused by his own question. 

"Um, no thank you."

"Right, of course," Tim focused on the fork in front of him, twirling it in his hand. "Wait, how old are you?"

Nyx snickered from the corner, "smooth Tim."

Angel grinned, "guess."

"Ah..um..fourteen?"

Nyx was outright laughing now.

"No, try again."

"Thirteen?"

"I'm not younger!

"Fifteen then."

She nodded.

"You look younger," Tim muttered.

"Well you look older" she jeered at him, pointing at the grey forming at his temples. "What are you a hundred?"

Nyx was crying.

"You're right there. Jack had to 'age' me up."

"By how much?"

Angel noticed the colour flushing back on his neck. Just how it had done earlier when Nyx asked about Jack.

He frowned before he answered, "just a few years."

Angel eyed him alongside a crooked grin. 

"Here ya go," Janey passed Tim a beer and passed a glass of red wine to Athena.

Before they could all start, Nyx decided it was hilarious to stand in the middle of the table. Meaning his crotch went right through the plate of rakk ribs. Only when Angel threatened to turn off his vocal component did he pixelate into a 'normal' seating position. 

Janey insisted she plate everyone's meal, and Angel noticed she gave Tim double servings of everything. Angel could not recall the last time she had a home cooked meal let alone a family dinner. Jack only sent pre-made packaged meals to be activated by loaders and passed into her chamber.

Silence claimed them as they indulged in the 'deep-fried-canned-goods'. It tasted better than the description Janey had offered, though Angel was sure to drink plenty of water to drown out all the salt or 'chicken-salt' as Janey had called it. Why there was chicken in the salt, she did not know, just another quirk from the Elpis raised mechanic. 

Tim was finished with his beer well before anyone else, and Janey was swift to make sure his hands did not stay empty. Only when he was on his third did he start to speak beyond basic pleasantries.

"I first met Athena in a crater, we were-"

"He was hiding."

"I was scouting."

"He was trying to bury himself under a pile of rocks."

"It was a tactical maneuver, see I was going to-"

"He was hiding," Crake asserted.

"Well, I wasn't a badass like the rest of you. I'd never held a gun before Elpis. To be honest, it was bloody terrifying."

Angel didn't interrupt, intent on letting Tim talk freely for once. She was gradually finding it less awkward to imagine him running around with Janey, putting up cat posters, screaming about heights and hiding under rocks. Especially since he was still donning the sequin cat shirt Janey had bought him. 

"This stuff tastes awful, but I'll have another."

Janey cussed him and reached for the bottle opener. "Watch out with that ‘stuff’, Rakk Ale will give you one hell of a hangover."

"Hey Angel, if you like scramble up my sense receptors think you can get me drunk?" Nyx chirped in.

Angel burst out laughing, "Nyx! learn to code!"

"Nah, why do that when you can do it so much better."

She shamelessly smiled back and shook her head.

“Ah, come on” Nyx was whining doing the most innocent and pleading face he could muster. It was so absurd to witness the profile of her father asking and begging for such a thing. More so, it was satisfying to tell him 'no' with zero ramifications. 

“Nyx,” Tim scolded, but Angel noticed how it took him a moment to bring the digistruct in focus. “You're an adult of like thirty-five so behave like one.”

That statement kind of contradicted him gulping down the ale and licking his lips in delight. Angel snorted. Seeing ‘Jack’ getting drunk had never been on her bucket list, but it was entertaining to watch.

"You offered the fifteen-year-old a drink!" Nyx jeered, arm raised at Angel. "And you're already getting drunk off what, three beers?"

"I wasn't allowed to drink as I pleased on Helios." Tim reminded, "It's been a while."

Thankfully the comment slipped over everyone else, as Athena and Crake were in a heated discussion about the velocity of rocket launches between Maliwan and Hyperion.

"Two fingers of scotch, two cubes, two a night at nine pm. Those were rules," Tim made a face. "Jack and his stupid rules, he was one who needed to lose weight."

"Jack and his dad bod," Nyx was crying with laughter. "Wait, wait, what was the nickname Nisha had for him?"

"Pretzel."

Angel was grinning so much her cheeks began to ache. Never, had she heard anyone speak of Jack in such a way.

Tim turned to her, "he used to stress bake, did you know that?" Tim's smile was slightly crooked, and strangely enough, Angel felt her heart sink at hearing his endearing and softer tone. 

“Jack... Dad used to like baking back in the day. It calmed him down,” Angel admitted. Tim smiled brightly, an unusual facial expression on him or Jack.

“You know who was lucky? Meg. She got, like, twenty muffins on her desk after every shitty meeting. Thirty if Jack shot someone.”

“It's not like Jack ever let you eat anything," Nyx commented sourly. The digistructs demeanour matched his tone the moment the conversation about Jack had a positive note to it.

Upon first meeting Nyx, Angel had presumed the blue AI looked up to Jack. He mimicked his mannerisms and choice of words, and imitation is considered a high form of flattery. However, she no longer thought that. It appeared both AI's were intent on stripping away as much of Jack as possible, a difficult feat when Handsome Jack is literally programmed into your core. Any mentioned of Jack regarding Tim's time on Helios made both of them on edge.

She'd never really thought about it, but Nyx and Crake were the only ones who truly knew who Timothy Lawrence was.

Nyx grew bored of being sidelined at the end of the table and pixelated away, only to end up on Tim's lap.

"Fu-" Tim stopped short of swearing, his eyes jumping to Angel's echo at the other end of the table. No doubt in fear of being reprimanded again by Felicity. "Darn it, Nyx, get off me,"

Nyx only leaned towards the table, elbows down and head propped in his hands. "Want to know what other goodness I got out of Tim before his mind went back to being sad and boring?"

"Nyx, off. You idiot, you're not a goddamn child." Tim was swaying his beer and hand through the digistruct.

"His beloved pet was a rabbit named Sir Flufferton." Nyx continued without an ounce of concern for Tim's objections.

Tim rolled his eyes and groaned, "I named it when I was six."

"His first girlfriend was his 'wife' in a Bunkers and Badasses campaign."

Tim was furiously blushing now. 

"And, he burned down a church when he was sixteen."

Tim frowned, "It wasn't completely on purpose. I was trying to make a wax sculpture out of all the candles. It got a little out of hand."

"Hey! Have you ever burned down a church?" Nyx's eyes went wide, hope spread across his face for Angel's answer.

"No, Nyx I have not burned down a church."

The conversations grew louder, the leftovers went cold, and everyone pushed on with another drink. Unsurprisingly, Nyx didn't need any virtual alcohol to match the conversation levels. 

It was the most domestic her life had ever been, despite the oddity of it all; three AI's, an ex-assassin, a mechanic from the moon and a doppelganger of her father. Somehow all these fragmented pieces seemed to fit together, and Angel found herself humming as she returned to the table with a cup of tea. Walking past Athena, Janey and Felicity she heard some apologies been ushered, and mentions of the Drakensberg. Nyx, Crake and Tim were arguing about a particular mission in the Veins of Helios.

"You totally went cannibalistic" Nyx stated in an amusing tone. 

"I did not, I just...felt strangely hungry," Tim scoffed.

"I don't know how you could have been hungry in that place, you were covered in green puss."

"You don't even know what hungry feels like."

"I will soon, right, Angel?" Nyx beamed at her when she sat back down.

"Well, I need to find a human digistructing factory and a server. Not too many of those surrounding the border planets."

Nyx's face drooped and Angel rapidly explained that she'd do her best. She glanced over at the end of the table and noted that Athena had left, shortly afterwards Janey announce the two of them were heading to bed and that Athena had already claimed the bedroom again.

They were on dish duty, not that there were many to do, the room may have been filled with people and conversations, but only four of them actually ate. Angel bundled up some leftovers and fed Meatface in the garage. She'd been allowed around the flat while Athena was gone, but the moment she came home Janey hurriedly ushered her away.

When Angel returned Tim was already on the thin layer of blankets on the floor as his mattress, Angel got the couch. Nyx and Crake were off recharging, though Angel suspected Tim was still texting them through his echo. Another upgrade she'd given them.

She crawled onto the couch, her movements were sluggish from a full belly and an emotionally charged cycle. It was only earlier that day that Tim had turned into Handsome Jack and experienced his panic attack. 

Wrapping the covers around her, she settled down and messaged Felicity goodnight.

Though sleep would not come. The headaches were back again, ever since they'd escaped Angel found her head being swarmed with piercing needles and jabs. She'd initially wrote it off from overusing her powers, but that was weeks ago now. 

She groaned and rolled over and found that Tim had been watching her intently.

"You, um...ok?" he mumbled, it seemed the alcohol was still buzzing in his mind.

"It's just a headache."

"I'll see if there's anything around for that." He made to move, but Angel told him not to bother. Somehow she knew these headaches were not going to be cured with some simple painkillers. 

As Tim settled back down, she noticed how he fidgeted before he rolled away from her. Not a moment had passed before he abruptly turned back over.

"I never answered your question."

Angel raised a brow, "what question was that?"

She had many.

"Why I became Jack's double."

"You know I've asked you that before."

Tim played with the clip on his chin, his hands idly tracing along his jaw as he spoke. "Yeah, I remember...It's not a great reason."

"You told me it was for money," Angel inched closer to the edge of the couch. "Then you said it didn't matter because Jack would of have taken you on anyway."

Tim sighed and kept his gaze fixed on his hands resting idly against the pillow. "Those are both correct." 

"I want you to tell me because you want to." 

Tim nodded and took a deep breath before answering. "I faked my resume."

"What?" Angel replied with an amused look. She hadn't meant to scoff at his answer, but it was utterly absurd and not the response she was expecting

Tim only shrugged his shoulders and reiterated what he just said. "I faked my resume and Jack found out."

"I don't understand."

"Well, that's the short version. Long version, is" Tim pulled himself up with a huff and leaned back against the make-shift coffee table. 

"As you know, Hyperion only takes grads from the Eden-Leagues. I, on the other hand, went to community college and West Eden-5 University. Not exactly Hyperion quality." He paused as if to collect his thoughts. "Sorry, this is just so long ago."

Angel patiently waited for him to continue. Tim revealing anything willing was a rarity.

"Um..so...It didn't matter what marks I had or what work I could show for it, without that stupid piece of paper saying I spent six years surrounded by pretentious cu-"

Tim abruptly stopped and collected himself, "basically I was not Hyperion material."

Angel slowly nodded for him to continue.

"I was buried so deep in debt It would have taken me three lifetimes to pay it off, and so, I faked my resume. I got the internship at Hyperion, and eventually, I had a programming job."

Tim looked weary, his eyes were half closed, and his shoulders slumped back into the coffee table crate. As if recalling these details were a physical strain. Maybe they were? 

"Then this guy contacts me, he's much higher up, and he's worked out that I'm a fake. He's pretty livid about it. Naturally, I freak, pretty sure I spent the night drunk in a gutter somewhere."

Angel made a small noise of amusement. 

"But he doesn't snitch on me. Instead, he offers me a deal." 

Tim opened his eyes and placed his gaze on Angel. The words became strained as he tried to justify his reasoning, or explain it himself.

"I had everything to lose if Hyperion ever found out," Tim swayed his head defeated. "Every project I ever worked would have to be forfeited, lost integrity they would claim. I'd be sued so fast my head would have span, and that's if they didn't just put me in a shallow grave first."

"So, I listened to what the guy had to say."

Angel could already guess how it was going to end. Still, she needed to hear it.

"Jack offered me his name and his life. I'd no longer be Timothy Lawrence from Eden-5 with a useless but very expensive set of degrees. I'd be Jack, I'd be someone with a future, a chance to move up in Hyperion. We were going to do it together." Lawrence trailed off at the end.

"So I took the gig," Tim screwed his face up, "I didn't even think about it really."

Tim spared a glance at Angel, and she caught how his hand twitch at his side nervously. He was expecting her to comment, perhaps to reassure him that the choices he made were sound, that his reasoning was a just cause to accept Jack's deal. 

Angel said nothing.

"If not for the Lost Legion..." Tim's eyes were downcast again, playing with his wristwatch.

"Well, the plan had been the two of us would work our way to the top. Now that I was in middle management I could finally have access to projects that would have taken me decades to reach. I was actually happy, like, everything was working out."

Angel let Tim talk, mindful this occurrence wouldn't come around again any time soon. 

"I'm not sure if he ever had any other candidates."

"He did," Angel replied meekly. "I was helping him."

"You were?" Tim looked more awake now.

Angel replied with an exasperated sigh, "It seemed so crazy, helping my Dad find another person willing to change their whole life just for him."

"Yeah, pretty crazy huh?" He laughed shyly back at her, the scars on his face contorted when he smiled. But it was genuine, not the wicked wild grin Jack would own.

"So, what were the other candidates like?" 

It was clear Tim was very interested in the topic, his eyes were brighter, and the fatigue from before was washing away quicker than Angel's own.

"They were all loud, boisterous, mercs. Many from Dahl, with high weapons skills and sound knowledge of survival. Jack had been planning to open a second Vault for a long time."

Tim laughed bitterly, "and then he got me..."

He didn't ask why though, why Jack choose Tim over all others. It was an unspoken understanding between them. From what Angel had gathered, Timothy Lawrence was a man with everything to lose. A weak, easily shaped and manipulated person, ready for Jack to make a new. Her Dad had been looking for the wrong kind of candidate for a long time. Only when the opportunity mounted did he latched onto Tim as thresher does to its prey.

"Jack asked me to stop looking for candidates, I believed...well, hoped, he had scrapped the idea. Then he came out with the pocket watch doubles, which is why I was so unsure of who you were when we met."

"Yup, I remember," Tim chuckled wearily tracing his thumb across his cybernetic eye. Angel realised she might not have apologised for taking his sight and twisting the cybernetic device inside his head.

"Sorry," she huffed sheepishly.

"We can start square if you like?"

Angel liked that idea, "it's a deal." She paused and remembered their initial arrangement, "And about our other deal..." Angel started, and Tim raised a brow in question.

"About you taking me to Sanctuary and I help you leave Pandora."

"Oh, yeah, what about it?"

"Well, are you going to change your appearance, I could maybe...help?"

"Right..." Tim looked away. "I've not thought about that in a long time." He poked at his throat, "can't change the voice after the first modulator broke, Jack installed a second and that one became permanent."

Angel pressed her lips thin. Just how many surgeries did her Dad force Tim into?

"If you could change would you?"

Tim was reaching that exhausted look again and began to fiddle with his watch. She'd hit a sensitive topic she knew, so she stayed silent, waiting to see if he'd answer; he didn't.

"I need some rest," with that said he flopped back down onto his bed.

They said their goodnights and Angel was relieved that her headache was dulling. She rolled back into the middle of the couch and tucked her self in. Despite his abrupt end to the conversation it seemed revealing his past had taken a strain off Tim's mind as he was already snoring on the floor beside her.

* * *

Angel slammed a hand on her echo and accessed the device with her mind. It was so very early in the cycle, not even 6am, yet her headache had risen again and was determined not to let her sleep for any longer.

Tim was still softly snoring, yet Angel could hear a voice in amongst his deep breaths. She discerned Janey and Athena were awake, as their hushed voices crept down the hall from their bedroom. Pandora tin walls were not precisely guaranteed to give you privacy. 

It was when she heard Tim's name that her eyes opened, and she sought out her echo again. It was such an old habit that she had not realised she'd connected to Janey's echo until Felicity reprimanded her through her own.

' _ Angel! What did we discuss about boundaries?' _

_ 'They're talking about Tim!' _

_ 'So? That is their business, leave that echo now.' _

Angel kept her mind inside the device, there was no way they could find out. Only the receiver was on, and there was no call or connection to trace.

"I never told you I found him" Athena words were dry, a sharp comparison to Janey's cheerful glow. The sound of sheets being ruffled shortly followed.

"What are you saying? You found Tim before this?" Janey's voice jumped a few pitches. 

Athena hummed. Janey only groaned, evidently not pleased with her partner's lack of communication. 

"I heard rumours of a double out in the Dust, fleeing Hyperion. On one of my deliveries...I detoured, I hoped to intercept the double before his pursuers found him."

Janey made a worried noise at her girlfriend. 

"I'm sorry I never told you," Athena's voice dropped, "but what I saw, was not worth sharing."

"What happened?" Janey's query was hesitant as if she feared the answer. 

Angel's hands curled around the echo, and the tight coils of tension rose inside her once again. 

"It wasn't Timothy feeling Hyperion. No, It was someone else."

"But-you said-"

"Oh, he was there." Athena's words were cut-throat sharp. "He showed up with Nisha, the Law-Bringer. Had a good old laugh when they found the double dead in the Dust. They had been hunting him for weeks. Leaving a track of dead bodies and raided towns in their wake."

Angel froze, yet she kept her mind locked inside Janey's echo. Surely there had to be more to the story? Did Tim really relish in Jack's and Nisha's sadistic pursuits? She'd assumed he'd been an unwilling participant, hauled along for years with threats from her Dad for any disobedience. 

Athena continued her story, and Angel listened on with growing alarm. 

"I'd been tracking the wrong person, for days I was trying to stay one leg ahead of the hunters, hoping to reach 'Tim' before they did." Athena growled, "Imagine my surprise when I find out Timothy was the very hunter."

Angel drew a sharp breath. Carefully she pulled the covers away and spied down at the sleeping man beside her. It wasn't had to imagine Jack hunting another double with the intention of killing him. However, after the last few weeks, that image of Tim as Jack was slipping from her mind.

"How did you know it was him?" Janey asked.

"I didn't know at first, I lingered back and watched. For a long time I thought it was Handsome Jack, and then he released the digi-Jacks," Athena muttered bitterly.

Janey made a quiet noise, "oh, what else did you see?"

Athena cleared her throat, "nothing else worth sharing."

Angel was about to leave the echo when Athena's tone dropped to hold an assertive tone.

"Janey, I don't want you to be alone with him."

"Athena!"

"He's a broken dog, without an owner and sooner or later he's going to bite. I thought he would have left by the time I returned."

"He's not like that."

"If you say so."

"But...why bring him here? It was you who took charge and made sure we rescued them?"

"I wanted to see him. I wanted to look him in the eye and know why he stayed and how he survived Handsome Jack."

"Babe..." Janey restlessly moved in the bed, "please don't press him."

Athena said nothing.

Angel pulled her mind away from the echo and glanced between the hallway and Tim beside her. Were they overstaying their welcome? Suddenly the entire previous evening felt wasted like it was for nothing. Athena didn't trust Tim, and Janey wasn't sure on the matter either. 

Tim had called them his friends, and those were who he sought out when he was in need. Did he truly have no one else? Was it just him and Nyx, Crake.

Angel's mind was alive with questions again, and so she resigned she wouldn't be getting any more sleep that morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That was a lot of talking. I REALLY hope you enjoy these chapters, as they're not really my thing. So much talking and down time, but the gang needs it. I just hope i've not over done in. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter, the response was so heartwarming! As always, a little comment makes my day brighter :3 and I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) Thanks to [Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who helped out with some dialogue once again. You're the best. 
> 
> Please let me know if you read and enjoyed the update, cheers :D
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Supposedly developed by Handsome Jack.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	29. Hollow Point Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been in a writing slump recently, I've hit 196 k for this fic and kinda been pretty run down with the effort and work put in. Plus uni started up again, its my final year and semester (yay). Any way, updates will likely be every 2 weeks...maybe longer until I get my groove back.

Angel prided herself on never missing the tiny details; the scar on Tim's palm, the old wound on his collarbone, Crake's watchful eye and Nyx's weariness surrounding the watch latch. All these little tells were compiled and catalogued away, reassuring her no matter how much they looked like Jack, neither Tim nor the AI's were her father.

Consequently, it had not escaped her attention that Tim was abruptly more social. Tagging behind her and Janey as they busied themselves in the garage, helping with dinner preparations and making tea.

She couldn't deny this high, yet unusual level of interaction was a good thing and that his outbursts of 'Handsome Jack' and silent brooding maybe a thing of the past. However, Angel was no fool. Tim aspiring to change his ways for the sole purpose of 'being a better person' was not a convincing enough reason, and so Angel could only conclude that his efforts to be around her and Janey was to solely avoid being alone with Athena.

Though he could not endlessly escape the ex Atlas assassin, as the next morning Athena sat them all down.

"Sanctuary," she announced to the group, "how are you planning to get there?"

Before either, Angel or Tim could answer Janey chirped in. "But there's no rush! you can stay as long as you need to."

Athena's usually pouty lips twitched and drew thin, prompting Angel to grow smaller in her chair. The gladiator wanted them out of the house, and Angel could not entirely blame her. They were fugitives of Hyperion; Tim was the splitting image of Handsome Jack, and though they did not know it, her powers were out of control.

No amount of dish duty was going to rectify that.

"Sanctuary has closed all unregistered fast travel access. You cannot travel without a citizen or prior approval." Athena eyed Tim carefully before continuing, "there's more, the Crimson Raiders hold is relentless, with their two leaders missing I doubt they'd spare a moment to listen to either you." Athena looked between Tim and Angel.

Angel couldn't deny a sharp glare at Tim. He'd withheld that information, and she had to learn of Roland's death and Lilith's capture from her own investigations. So much destruction and sacrifice just to stop her Dad and to save her life.

"So, our best chance is with someone already up there? Not directly affiliated with them?" Felicity asked, thankfully drawing Angel out of her mental slump.

Athena nodded, "or someone down here who already has access."

Angel thought of the Vault Hunters, of Gaige. Jack was monitoring all her communications with them, but that had not stopped her from finding her own loophole to share some private conversations with the energetic teen. She wondered what she felt when she discovered Angel's true identity? Would she be happy to see Angel's return? Would it even matter to her?

_'Angel, are you ok?'_

Felicity spoke silently to her through the comm.

'Yes,' she lied back to the AI. ' _It’s just another headache._ ' That part was true, she'd scarcely gone a few hours without the pain rippling down her skull. She'd finally accepted some pills from Tim and Janey, but she was sure to take careful note of how many and when she took them. Her mind was very fickle, and she could not risk losing control.

Janey's excited voice was once again a pleasant interruption for Angel's thoughts.

"Moxxi is up there! She's very discreet and told me in the past to reach out to her if I was ever in a pickle."

"We cannot trust Moxxi." Tim grounded, speaking for the first time since they sat down.

"I agree," Athena spoke carefully, "she would not be so forgiving of you."

Tim huffed and looked away.

"Then what about her kids? Ellie...and um, ah, Scooter! Ellie isn't stationed too far from here."

"That could work. If they agree, they can escort you up."

"Won't be a problem with my charm," Janey winked at her girlfriend. "I'll call her tonight."

Angel accessed her echo and summoned a map to cast onto the table. "Where can we find her?"

Athena jabbed a hand onto the map, "here."

"Oh fuck," Tim cursed loudly.

Felicity scolded him for his abrupt and rude interruption.

"She's in the middle of the Dust?" Tim raised a brow, his expression uncomfortable. "We just came that way, and it didn't go so well."

Tim crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. The scars from his Atlas Hello would forever be a painful reminder of that venture.

"There's a fast travel station at her garage. Many of the Vault hunters use her place as a stopover. I've been there a few times myself for parts." Janey kept her tone reassuring, but it did nothing to remove the distress from Tim's profile.

He glanced at Angel and back to the map. "We only have one shot at this. Only one fast travel jump, because the second we do..."

Angel finished his sentence, "Jack would know I'm alive and that you're with me."

Tim hummed bitterly.

"Angel, you'd be putting all of Sanctuary at risk, are you going to be ok with that?" Felicity asked.

She did not know.

"I could try and hack the fast travel system, I did write the language it's built on after all."

Athena nodded pleased with this result, Tim only stared at her in awe.

"You wrote Hyperphire? But Jack he-"

"Jack didn't create it," she muttered. Tim flashed her a startled look. "I did. I wrote Hyperphire before I could read or write anything else," Angel spoke evenly, though pride lingered in her voice.

She crossed her arms, "as I said. I can hack the system. Though a complex assignment like that, Jack may just suspect it's me."

"So, either way, the jump to Sanctuary has its risks."

Angel studied the burns on her hands. Everywhere she went destruction followed. Could she really put all those people in danger? And would the Vault hunters even accept her? There were so many more questions to solve, decisions to make. However, Athena was evidently happy with the solution laid in front of them.

"Right, Janey will help you with transport and set up the meet with Ellie. For now, I have errands to attend to. See you at dinner."

Athena abruptly stood up and made to leave, and Janey hurriedly followed suit. Angel wanted more details, more time to plan, but it seemed the ex Vault Hunter was confident in her ways. She watched the two women head to the garage arm in arm.

"You never told me you wrote it, Hyperphire." Tim nudged her gently, and Angel turned back to face him.

"You never asked."

It felt mildly satisfying withholding such information from him. For once he was on the receiving end of the 'not knowing'.

"Jack and I used to use the language for everything. To talk, send secret messages, build short programs and engineer robot solutions across the house."

Angel pushed away from the table and made for the kettle. Any conversations about Jack and her childhood required tea. As she waited for the water to boil Nyx and Crake finished their recharge and burst from Tim's watch. There was never any warning, and it always made her jump.

"Morning Angel!" Nyx cheered. Angel noted how he always greeted her by her actual name, not 'princess', 'kiddo', 'baby girl', or any of the other atrocious nicknames Jack called her.

Crake only silently regarded both her and Tim with a curt nod.

"Angel created Hyperphire," Tim turned to his digital companions with a thoughtful look.

"We heard." Crake replied evenly.

Nyx was far more ecstatic with the new piece of information. "Ha! so you have no excuse now to help me code anything super complex!"

Angel shook her head, and a smile crept across her lips. She poured the hot water and stirred in the tea before returning to the table.

"It wasn't always called Hyperphire," she confessed after she took a sip.

"No?"

"For a long time, I was happy. We...Jack and I collaborated, we were working together to build some new, it was going to make all our lives brighter."

Angel's tone dropped to a sour note, "then he dug his claws into it, took it away from me and renamed it."

Angel imitated her best Handsome Jack voice, "It's just not flashy enough, kiddo, can't introduce a new language with a name like 'Sapphire'. What will the bosses think?"

She took another sip of her tea as if to wash away Jack's words. Not even reflecting on her own creation could bring her joy. Jack tainted everything.

Though, Angel was grateful that she always had Nyx to end any resentful feelings.

"Angel! Angel! Watch this!" Nyx rolled his head to the side, and a moment later he glitched away before reappearing, not as his usual light cyan but as a deep, brilliant blue.

"Sapphire! Just like me!"

"Congratulations, you coded something," his brother drawled.

"Oh, wait, oh no." Nyx frowned and with a flash of pixels he turned a flat blue. "Yup kinda ruined my shader module."

Angel giggled into her mug as Nyx examined his new semi-opaque state. After she expelled her laughter, she raised her hand, intending to offer her help. Though Crake was fast to move to his brother’s side and extend his assistance.

"Let me fix you," he insisted as he closed his eyes and Angel assumed he was accessing his brother's code.

"Get out of my head! I can do it myself!" Nyx cried out. Though after a few more attempts of flashing away and returning just as opaque as before he finally sighed and resigned to letting his brother help.

"There," Crake rested his hands on his hips and stepped back to admire his work. "Is that what you wanted?"

Nyx was now a shimmering iridescent royal blue with streaks of navy and cobalt moving through him. Angel was thoroughly impressed with Crake's work, as Nyx now resembled a walking gemstone.

"I guess," Nyx muttered, defeated that he could not achieve the results himself. "Thanks, baby brother."

Crake whirled on Nyx and opened his mouth to retort back, but promptly withdrew.

"Crake is...the younger one?" Angel raised a brow, looking between the two AI's.

Nyx burst out laughing, "he sure is, ain't ya, sweet red angry baby."

Crake snapped his fingers, not that he needed to and Nyx reverted back to his old cyan self.

"Ok, ok! Put it back, please. I want to be a pretty gemstone."

During this entire exchange, Tim had been off fixing his coffee. Evidently, the brothers bickering was a regular occurrence for him and did not warrant his attention.

Crake made some more threats regarding being called a 'baby' before he returned Nyx's to his new shimmery blue form.

Lawrence was finally done with brewing his coffee and came back. In her head, Angel played out what would happen. Nyx would jump Tim and yell at him to look at the new mod and Tim would likely-

“Sup! Check this out! Tim! Look what I did!” Nyx pixelated forward and began to circle around him, showing off his new colour.

Tim eyed him with a bored expression and took a sip from his brew. “hmm, shiny blue, that'll blend into the Dust nicely.”

Crake sniggered loudly, Tim's sarcasm did not escape him.

“I'll be a ninja, you'll see.”

“Will you now? You know what else Ninja's do?” Tim said sweetly, and Angel knew the intonation from her Dad. It never promised anything nice. “Stay flipping silent."

Nyx screwed his face up and cursed loudly, Tim only took a deep sip of his coffee and sat back down. Ignoring Tim's rude dismissal of Nyx, Angel turned to the blue AI.

She opened up and told Nyx the story of how she had named her newly created language after her favourite gemstone; Tim and Crake listened on. Her mother had a sapphire embedded into the back of a silver hand-held mirror. Angel loved that mirror, she used to play with it on the floor of their first apartment. She watched as the sun caught the stone and cast fractured light across the walls.

It was so beautiful.

Tim's eyes widen, and his mouth stood agape as he considered her story.

"The mirror," he started slowly. "With the gemstone..."

Now it was Angels turn to return the surprised look. "You've seen it?"

He nodded. "Only a few times...Jack showed me when-" Tim abruptly stopped talking. Angel regarded how he fidgeted and ran a hand through his hair over the back of his neck before started again. "He showed it to me, I dunno, once or twice."

"It was my mothers."

Nyx and Crake exchanged glances between one another as Angel and Tim continued their somewhat exclusive conversation.

"Jack has it on Helios, he keeps it in his gear-chip."

"Well," Angel spoke playfully, "if you ever see him again, tell him I want it back."

Tim chuckled, "sure thing. It never fit his aesthetic anyway. Not tacky enough."

Angel sipped her tea, and Tim fumbled for a cigarette. Though he paused and put the packet away before retrieving one. Athena would likely shoot him if he smoked inside the house. The silence lingered over them as Angel drank her tea and Lawrence idly ran his thumb over his palm.

Angel wondered how he got the scar he so regularly traced. Jack had the same mark, and she always questioned why he did not have it removed.

The silence was eventually disturbed by the faint sound of Lawrence sighing and fiddling with his watch. Nyx immediately looked restless, Crake too as Lawrence took it off. Angel had only seen him take the watch off once, in the garage and it had set both digistructs on edge. She supposed Tim was who they'd ever known and trusted.

To be thrown away like that would have been a horrible blow.

Nyx began to look incredibly anxious, and his eyes darted from the watch to Tim pleadingly. Though Tim ignored him as he passed the device to Angel.

"Take care of these two for a bit, will you?"

"Ah...ok," Angel place her tea to the side to accept the watch.

Tim turned and patted a hand through Nyx's legs.

"Don’t sweat it, I'm not storming off. Just going to have a shower." As he heaved himself up, Angel caught him muttering under his breath, "alone, for once."

"Oh come on!" Nyx cried out dramatically, "who doesn't like company?" he couldn't withhold a snort of laughter at the end. All looks of fear and concern gone.

"Seriously, you all need boundary lessons," Crake snapped, but there was no animosity in his voice. He even looked amused as Tim flipped him off towards the bathroom.

"Wait!" Nyx called.

"What is it Nyx?" Tim turned back with his head rolled to the side unimpressed.

"I want that cat tee."

"What?" Tim now looked utterly worn out from the blue digistructs antics. "Whatever, fine."

Tim paused an embarrassed look passed over his features before he turned around, closed the hallway door halfway and seemingly pulled the shirt overhead. The door opened a fraction, and he tossed the sequined cat tee onto the table.

"There."

Nyx hastily huddled over the tee, his hand tracing the sequins on the bow around the cat's face.

"Do you think a gear-chip scanner would digitise this?" Nyx's eyes were bright, and the childlike wonder on his face seemed to take ten years off Jack's age.

"No reason why it can't," Crake leaned in over his brother.

"Angel I want this shirt."

Crake growled behind him, and Nyx rolled his eyes. "Please Angel, can you help me digitise this."

Angel beamed, "yeah, of course, I will." She paused, and her tone dropped to mimic Felicity's words of authority. "But I'm also going to show you how because you need to learn how to code, Nyx."

Crake nodded encouragingly at the idea. "You should see what he writes, it's a mess. Nothing is organised, half his files end with the word 'final' or 'asdfg'. It's like if a frat house were-"

Yet, Angel paid Crake no mind. A wild idea consumed her, and she blurted it out before the two digistructs could get another word in.

"We could do a whole makeover!"

Nyx pixelated forward, "Yes! Get this douchebag's face off my face!"

"It's Tim's face as well," Crake reminded as his brow pressed into a frown.

"Right, right," Nyx spoke swiftly, "just do something, anything. So it's not Jack's face anymore."

"There so much open source digitised data. You could change anything you want really." Angel's mind was already alive with the possibilities.

"But first, I want that tee." Nyx was back to tracing the sequins with his hand. "Please, Angel."

His thanks was genuine despite his child-like demand for the new accessory. Angel grinned at his crudeness. His need for the sequin tee was in a way, so Jack-like, yet his request didn't require the destruction of lives or a burden on her conscious.

"Let's do it."

* * *

It was only when he was alone in the shower, that Lawrence realised he'd not had complete privacy in over five years. All of Helios was bugged and watched, Jack always needed his company, and Nyx and Crake had forever been at his side.

His hand's scraped at his skin as if he could scratch away Tania's marks. They were no longer angry red though they did not lay smooth on his skin. They ran thick and twisted his flesh.

Only a bath in Eridium could have prevented this.

He raised his palms forward and study the veins along his arms. The purple had begun to fade, and the withdrawals thankfully occurred while he was passed out. But it was another treatment, another few years of his life shaven off.

Despite it all, he could not blame Nyx and Crake for saving his life. How many times was that? He lost count long ago.

Lawrence pursed his lips together and leaned against the shower wall. What would become of them if he died? They were free now, nothing really bound them to him, yet they hadn't once talked about leaving or seeking out a new purpose and Lawrence was thankful.

It may have taken Tania to rip out half his insides to see it, to realise they were his only friends.

Lawrence turned off the taps and stepped into the cool steamed bathroom. He changed before leaving, he figured everyone had seen enough nudity.

Brushing a hand through his hair, he attempted to style it. He had no gel so he could not return it to the perfect coiffed state Jack wore. Though, he pulled and parted it until it looked something decent before leaving the bathroom.

"Hey," Lawrence called ahead as he returned to the kitchen.

Nyx was twirling around, his hands tugging on the sides of his jacket as if to show off the garment.

Crake was leaning against the bench, legs and arm crossed as usual, though there was a light amused smile across his face. A rare look for the magenta digistruct.

That's not all that looked different. Lawrence frowned and stepped closer, Crake had changed.

He still had Jack's sharp jaw and cheekbones, but everything else seemed to have softened. He looked boyish, lips fuller, brow and eyes smoother. His hair was much shorter and now adorn softer curls, as opposed to Jack's long straight gelled look.

Lawrence took another step closer and realised Crake changed his age too. Worry lines were around his eyes, and Lawrence swore he was taller. Crake sensed his approach. The AI looked him in the eye, pausing as if waiting for Lawrence's assessment.

"Well?"

"I like the jacket."

Crake adorn a pilot bomber jacket with wool inside the collar. The rest of his gear was more military styled, and he too now wore his holster over his shoulders.

"And you look good," Lawrence smiled brightly, "kinda handsome. I mean, not handsome Jack-handsome. Like good. Like nice looking handsome," Lawrence mumbled out the last bit, cursing a 'fuck' at his inability to get the words out. A warm flush run up his neck, and he hurriedly turned to face the now 'sapphire' blue digistruct.

"Check it out!" Nyx paused his dance and pixelated forward.

Nyx, on the other hand, appeared almost the same. Jack with his coiffed hair and sharp features, though, he now supported freckles all across his face; soul patch was stripped away too.

Lawrence glanced back at Crake and noticed he'd removed it as well.

Nyx looked younger, Lawrence couldn't work out what he did, though it must have been Angel's doing. The blue digistruct was the laziest thing when it came to maintaining his code and upgrades. He finally looked somewhat more the age he acted. Though Lawrence admitted, another 20 years should be taken off to truly reflect his lack of maturity.

"Nyx, did you just add freckles?"

"Hella yeah I did, just like you had!"

"Besides the age change I suggested some other adjustments," Angel bounced on the edge of her seat. "Nyx was supportive of the idea, but not thrilled at coding in anything new."

Lawrence chuckled, "sounds about right."

"I want Angel's tattoos, just some of them, on my hand!" Nyx thrust his blue palm forward.

"And I said it was fine, as long as you learn to do it yourself," Angel rebutted.

Nyx rolled his eyes and cursed.

Something shimmered against Nyx's chest, and Lawrence glanced down.

"Is that?"

"IT'S MINE NOW!" Nyx puffed his chest out dramatically and pulled the jacket away to reveal the cat tee against his chest.

"Getting the sequins into a holographic state was a challenge," Angel spoke absentmindedly as she studied the new look adorned on Nyx's chest.

Lawrence threw a worried looked at Angel, "I hope these two aren't pressing you into doing things."

"No, not at all", Angel corrected herself, beaming a toothy grin. "It was so much fun. A good challenge."

No doubt the challenges Jack pressed onto her were not so fun and didn't involve cosmetic changes or fashion decisions.

"I'm impressed," Lawrence rested his hands on his hips. He'd been gone, what fifteen-twenty minutes? And Angel had already worked her magic over the digistructs.

"Well, Nyx and Crake are Hyperphire based, honestly its so easy," Angel spoke modestly, but Lawrence caught the pride in her tone.

"If you're the creator of Hyperphire does that make you a god to Nyx and Crake?" Felicity provocatively asked.

Lawrence laughed at Nyx's and Crake sudden struct appearance. It was long and heartfelt, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt anything like that. He ended up coughing in the end, and Crake told him off for smoking too much.

"Why not completely stop looking like Jack?" Lawrence asked when he finally caught his breath. He glanced between the two brothers.

The changes were undoubtedly improvements and helped reaffirm the two digistructs were not Jack and their own persons. However, under the new hair, clothes and facial modifications still lingered a 'Jack'.

"Too much effort," Nyx drawled. But it was Crake's answer who Lawrence paid attention too.

"Because you can't change your appearance. It wouldn't be fair."

"Oh," and Lawrence was taken aback. "Um, thanks, guys. But, you can, you know, go nuts, remove Jack's looks if you want."

"Nah, I'm good." Nyx was already idling laying back in the chair playing with the sequins now adorn on his chest. "I'm pretty as I am."

* * *

Later that evening Lawrence told Angel and Janey that he needed to be alone and to his surprise, they all listened. He sat on the crate in the garage and kicked his feet up on another as he tinkered with his echo. He paid close attention to the receiver, taking note that it was still inactive. Angel swore she wouldn't snoop, but the girl was tenacious.

A digistructed chess board from Crake was beside him. It was his turn, yet Lawrence had long given up. Crake was a ruthless opponent, and he'd never come close to winning against the AI.

Lawrence rechecked his echo log; there were no new messages from Jack. He scratched his Jaw tracing the clips, a habit Jack also possessed and performed when he was in bed and worked late. If there weren't a cigarette in his hand, then he'd be tracing them across his jaw.

Nyx was busy showing Crake the posters still sprawled out on the garage floor. Crake was not as assumed as Nyx, but the magenta digistruct chuckled softly as Nyx pointed and laughed at another snap of Lawrence being sick.

He tried to keep his hands busy, searching pointless things across the net just so his fingers worked against the echo. If they stayed still for too long, he'd feel the familiar tingling sensation before the tremors would kick in.

Nyx must have said something dumb - how surprising - and Lawrence rolled his eyes, as Crake now had his blue brother in a headlock, cursing at him. Lawrence stopped his ministrations to watch the two of them fight it out.

Crake was somehow the stronger one, and Lawrence didn't understand how that worked, but Nyx was faster. He'd pixelate away and reappear on the other side of the garage, cheering loudly every time he got out of Crake's grip.

A scratching noise grated his ears, and Lawrence glanced down to see his blunt nails were trembling on the echo. He flexed out his fingers, but not before Crake noticed. The AI paced over to his side, Nyx opted to pixelate over as if walking somehow tired him out.

"Tim, this cannot continue."

It amused him that everyone had suddenly decided to call him that; Tim. He hadn’t been ‘Tim’ for a long while, not until he forced Jack to call him by his real name.

Lawrence's hand idly scratched at the scar on his palm.

Crake crossed his arms and kept a firm gaze on Lawrence's hand. "We need a plan."

"I'm out of ideas."

"Wait," Nyx started slowly. "We're taking Angel to Sanctuary, right? That's the plan?" he stared them up and down. "Like we literally just discussed this, plus we promised we would."

Lawrence shrugged, his promises meant nothing.

Crake lamented, "Nyx," he turned to his brother, "I don't think we can keep that promise anymore."

"Woah, have the last few weeks meant nothing!?" He barked back. "I thought we had a good thing going on? We have a plan, we're taking Angel to that Ellie woman, and then we're going to Sanctuary."

Nyx's outburst was met with silence from him and Crake.

"We can't leave her," Nyx's brow furrowed and his tone went sharp.

Lawrence looked away, "I said I'd take her to the Vault Hunters. I never said I'd actually take her to Sanctuary."

Nyx's jaw dropped, and a horrible hiss escaped him before he shouted back, "You! Complete! Asshole!"

He mocked Lawrence's words back to him, "I never said I'd take her to Sanctuary?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"

Nyx closed in on Lawrence his blue frame fizzled with static and pixels as his rage surged forth. Never had Lawrence seen him in such a state.

"She is a child! You're going to deceive and lie to a fucking kid?!"

"Enough, Nyx." Crake snapped.

"Jack really did turn you into a monster."

That crossed the line. "Shut your damn mouth Nyx," Lawrence snarled back.

A disturbingly long silence fell upon them all.

Lawrence rubbed his thumb across his open palm, tracing the thick scar Jack had once slashed across his right hand. Any hope for treatment was back on Helios; with Jack. To stay meant to accept his fate. Lawrence glanced down at his hands and curled them tight to contain any tremors.

And Tania, Lawrence drew a shaken breath. That cunt, that depraved woman was the one who had poisoned him. God, he could remember it, he'd skulled down Jack's terrible black coffee, and moments later his entire lungs collapsed. He'd fallen on Jack's desk, and the other man yelled his name over and over as he succumbed to the poisons swift efficiency. He remembered nothing after that.

"Tim?" Crake spoke up.

"I'm fine," Lawrence groused.

The Eridium Jack gave him to save his life was too much, it mutated, fueled by the poison it latched onto his nervous system and slowly, but surely it was eating away at him.

Lawrence kicked his feet at the crate in front of him.

"Fucking fuck. Fuck everything." He kicked it again, yet his tantrum did nothing to dampen the fire which blazed inside of him.

Crake groaned. They were both doing that a lot. "You could go back to Helios."

Lawrence made note that Crake did not mention Jack's name.

"Honestly," Lawrence dug his nails harder into the scar on his palm. "I'm considering it."

"Woah, no way! I am not going back to that place!" Nyx started to pace around, and his hands clenched sporadically at his sides. "Not happening, bad idea. I'm not going back. I'm not going back to being some battle drone, I'm not watching and standing idly by again!"

Lawrence looked away, Nyx's stormed forward and latched onto his coat.

"You can't make us, not again. Not after what he's done, remember what he did?" Nyx's voice dropped to a sombre note. "You can't...you can't even get your old voice back."

Lawrence shrugged him off. Yes, he remembered, and he did not appreciate being reminded.

Despite it all, Nyx's outburst was justified.

Nyx and Crake would have to return to pretending to be something they were not;  subservient AI. Sure they had 'intelligence', but it was bound to the AI laws, bound to Jack.

"Nyx, if Jack finds a treatment, or better yet a cure. I have to go back."

Nyx shook his head and stepped away.

"He tried to replace you...After everything he did, how...why...I don't get it? Crake fucking talk to him!"

Crake was tight-lipped, and when no one answered the blue AI, he called Lawrence something that made them all surprised.

"Fuck you and fuck him...this time you're the idiot!" he snapped and jumped back into the watch.

Crake rested a hand on his shoulder, "I'll go talk to him." Pixels fizzled on Crake's side indicating he was about to leave.

"Stay for a bit," Lawrence murmured, and Crake nodded his head and ceased his departure.

Though he asked Crake to stay, Lawrence did not know what else to say to the digistruct, so he resigned he'd take his turn on the chess board. Crake smiled triumphantly the second Lawrence was done with his move, and the next moment his bishop was claimed by Crake's Queen.

"You should play against Angel, she'd be an actual challenge for you," Lawrence sighed as his bishop flashed away and reappeared on Crake's side.

"We don't always get along."

"You should try."

"What's the point if we're leaving?"

Lawrence made another move which resulted in a loss pawn.

"I dunno. Being nice isn't such a bad thing."

"I'll try to be 'nice' then," Crake growled.

Lawrence couldn't refrain from laughing.

"Oh shove it, you're hardly a great role model in the 'nice' department and did we not just discuss leaving Angel?"

Lawrence drew a long breath and considered his options.

"She could stay here...or maybe...Athena could take her?"

"Unlikely," Crake replied before he paused and Lawrence was sure he had more to say on the matter, but the garage door thumped and soon after it started to roll up. Crake straightened his stance and placed his hand over his holster.

Athena strode in, and Lawrence felt the blood run down his neck. He'd successfully avoided being alone with the gladiator since she'd returned. The answers she'd want from him were not going to be helpful or bring her any peace.

"Evening," Lawrence spoke benevolently to beguile his animosity. He also did not fail to notice how Crake inched closer to his side.

Athena only addressed him with a curt nod before she got straight to the point. "There's a dust storm out West, the way to Ellie's is blocked. But in four cycles time, it will pass, you will leave then."

"Right," Lawrence answered haphazardly. "So keen to get rid of us, hmm?"

"I'd let you stay if you gave me a reason to."

"Turn your echo off, and I'll talk."

Athena flashed him a dangerous look but obliged. Lawrence did the same, this was not a conversation he needed Felicity or Angel listening in on.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Where you were, how you survived, and why you never left." Athena carefully trod forward.  

"Great, but first you know anything about this?" Lawrence couldn't withhold the accusation in his voice as he jabbed a finger into the freshly healed scars on his arms.

Athena worked for Atlas, she was involved with the sick fucks who had him torn hip to hip. She didn't even look at it, her eyes were fixed on his; unblinking.

"An Atlas Hello is the result of disillusion Atlas soldiers with nothing to do but hunt bandits. Rule one of military service, don't let your men get bored."

Lawrence replied with a low growl. He'd bleed, been torn from the inside out because some Atlas fucks got bored.

“Why did you leave Handsome Jack?”

Athena was yet to relax her stance, Lawrence noted she kept her legs parted, hands idle at her waist. Only Inches from her holster.

There wasn't a valid answer to that question, so Lawrence only offered her silence.

“The Siren, Angel. It was her, you left because of her?" Athena continued to probe him for answers.

“She’s Handsome Jack’s daughter,” Lawrence replied flatly.

Athena's eyes flashed something grave, her natural pouty lips were pressed into a thin line. "I know. Janey told me. Is that why you left?”

Lawrence leaned forward and kept one hand on his knee to steady himself. "It doesn't matter why I left," his voice wielded an unspoken threat.

“Please tell me you considered leaving before this,” her voice dropped to match his own.

Lawrence hadn’t.

"What the hell happened to you." It was more of a statement than a question really.

"I survived." Lawrence snapped back. "Everything I did was to survive."

"You could have fled, you could have found me?"

"Find you!?" Lawrence scoffed, "the hospitality has been nice Athena, but you never gave me a reason to rely on you. You were a mercenary, not my friend."

Athena said nothing, though it did surprise him to see her firm composure wilt. It appeared Janey may have softened the gladiator's heart after all.

“Look, I’m not going to ask for much," Lawrence forced his tone to adopt a lighter tune. A difficult feat. Athena did not radiate the same friendliness as Janey.

"I need you to take Angel to the Vaul-."

"No," Athena cut him off, she leaned towards the wooden crate between them.

"You need-"

"No Timothy, do not ask me again." Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw clenched tight as her hand twitched at her side. Crake saw it and was on his feet.

Lawrence snarled, “they’re less likely to take your head off than mine.”

“My place is here, with Janey. The girl stays with you.”

“It has to be you, you’ve got a better chance with these people than I do,” Lawrence's voice was raising. “Word is, they’re out to get anyone who assisted Jack in his rise to power, they'd spare you. But not me."

"And whose fault is that?"

Lawrence could hear his own teeth grinding, he chewed the inside of his lip to stop himself yammering the honest truth.

“Timothy, you cannot dump her onto me, onto us.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lawrence spat. His shoulders naturally started to square, and his weight leaned forward again.

God-fucking-dammit, he forgot how infuriating talking to the Gladiator was.

“That's your name,” Athena was shaking now. “Or has Handsome Jack made you forget who you are?”

“Athena, it has to be you. Take her to the damn Vault Hunters.”

“I’m not taking the girl anywhere.”

“I can’t do it!" Lawrence rasped.

He mentally cursed his damn fucking mind. He'd been doing so well, holding back his thoughts, yet the Veritilium demanded he spoke the truth.

"I need to go back to Jack.”

Athena flung the make-shift table between them away and punched him in the jaw. He was hurled back off the crate. His head hitting the ground.

Nyx exploded from the watch and Crake immediately came to his aid, both of their weapons aimed directly at Athena. Crake's laser pointed at her head, Nyx at her heart.

“Need to!? You idiot, you absolute fool,” Athena cursed at him, ignoring the weapons pointed at her. "Why?" She spoke through grounded teeth.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lawrence rubbed his jaw.

“Try me.”

Lawrence ignored her. He worked to press his weight into his hands and sit back up, but all he felt was shock waves running up his nerves. His forearms caved, and he leaned back on his palms.

Athena's eyes narrowed as she pouted down at him.

He tried again and failed to get back up.

"Is there...something wrong?" She tilted her head to the side and looked him over,

"I'm just happy on the floor, thanks."

"No," Nyx deadpanned, all eyes fell onto the blue digistruct. He holstered his laser and crossed his arms. "Tell her or I will."

Lawrence threw him a vicious glare, one that Jack would use which promised needles, erasure and violence.

Yet, Crake followed his brother's example and stood beside Nyx.

"Tim," he sighed in defeat, "Nyx is right. Tell Athena."

Lawrence kept his head bowed, brow knitted together, and his eyes fixed on his digital counterparts.

"No." He regained his strength, stubbornness was a great motivator and willed his hands to push himself forward.

He was halfway up when his leg started to cramp, and he launched for the crate to steady himself. His hands fumbled to grasp the wooden edges, this time Lawrence kept his head buried against his chest. No doubt all eyes were on him, watching in bitter disappointment at his refusal to admit the truth.

He couldn't do it.

To reveal it all to Tania was exhausting. To go through it again, to accept it was too much. He'd accept his death so easily, but not this.

"No," this time the growl that escaped him hitched. "No, it doesn't matter. None of it does. I just need to go back."

"Goddammit, Tim, " Nyx sighed, and Lawrence caught the blue light source turn as he faced Athena.

"An assassin, sent by Tania, the woman who recently held him prisoner, poisoned him with Boturalin, he then-"

"Nyx!" Lawrence tried to drown his words out, but the digistruct ignored him

To see Athena in utter shock was a sight to remember. The Gladiator's jaw dropped open, and she whirled on Tim.

"Boturalin! How? How did you survive?"

Of course, Athena the assassin would know the details of the poison without any explanation.

"Jack," Lawrence snarled. "He doped me with Eridium." Lawrence heaved himself back onto the crate. "A lot of it."

Athena wore an expression that was best described as absolute disgust and pity.

"It wasn't enough, or it was too much. Who knows," Lawrence bitterly added. "The Eridium mutated with the poison, attacking my nervous system all while trying to save it."

It had been awful, Jack was slipping. Never had he'd seen the man so unhinged, so violent. He literally tore their apartment apart and murdered half the slag science division and two other pocket-watch doubles.

"I was told it would slowly start degenerating," Lawrence reluctantly spoke. "We had time. Jack was looking for a cure."

Lawrence recalled how he had to clean up the mess, all while to trying to accept his new diagnosis. It was easy in the beginning, he assumed his death would be swift, painless even with the drugs they had on hand. But no, the world fucking hated Timothy Lawrence. It was going to be slow. Take decades for him to succumb to the disease. Choke on a meal or fall down some fucking stairs, that was his fate.

How fucking unheroic. However Jack didn't care...he saw hope, he saw they had time and immediately started seeking treatment options.

"Any more Eridium would have hastened the decline."

"Angel gave you Eridium, it was necessary to save your life." Athena passed a glance at Crake, "explains why you wanted her to stop."

"Oh, did she? "Lawrence threw a glare at Nyx now that the lie was exposed. "And...Jack...he gave me another dosage a month ago."

Lawrence raised his hands forward for them to all inspect. "As you can see, its hard at work." His fingers trembled in front of him before Lawrence huffed a growl and flexed his hands to clenched them tightly.

"So," Athena started gently "Jack has a cure? This is why you want to return."

"No," Nyx spat, "there hasn't even been a viable treatment. Tim's reasoning for going back is not for some 'cure'" Nyx uttered venomously. It was surreal to see his usually smoothed face so wrinkled in contempt.

“So, even after all this, you stayed?" Athena accused him.

"Jack saved my life."

"Doesn't look like it," her soft features were screwed up in disdain.

Lawrence looked away. Not once did he ever considered leaving, and there were no words to explain why.

Nothing they would understand.

"Take her. Athena, take Angel to Sanctuary please." Lawrence finally met her eye, "she can't stay with me."

Athena huffed and turned away.

"Look at me!" Lawrence's voice raised more than he intended. "I am the fucking image of her father." His voice began to break, Lawrence found himself becoming short of breath. "You and I know that I'm no better than him. If only you knew the half of it. I may as well have imprisoned her myself."

The last statement caught Athena's attention.

Lawrence bitterly continued the regrets he knew to be true, "Angel may not see it now, but she will and when she does she'll wish she surrounded herself with better people. Good people, like you and Janey."

He was begging now, and pleading tones were once only reserved for Jack.

"I'm no good, I am seriously fucked up. No good will come from me staying."

She continued to say nothing.

"Athena, please....Athena, please do this for me, you're the only person I-"

"I'll take her."

Relief subdued Lawrence the moment her curt words cut him off. He nodded and offered his thanks, but Athena was already on her feet.

"You should leave. Sooner than later."

"Yeah...Ok," Lawrence replied slowly. He'd rip the band-aid off in the morning, tell Angel then. He already knew there was a fight ahead, the earlier the better.

Nyx was looking down at him with loathing and Crake's expression was unclear.

He had to go. It was the best for both of them. He'd talk to Angel, reason with her so she'd understand. Lawrence knew it would be-

His own thoughts were abruptly cut short.

Athena's and the AI's had their attention hastily switched to the garage entrance where Janey's panicked yells rushed under the door. Athena was already at her side when the mechanic raced into the garage.

Her brown eyes were pulled wide and her skin unnaturally pale, as she ran forward.

"It's Angel!"

Lawrence found his strength and pulled himself back to his feet. "Where is she? What's wrong?"

Janey just opened her mouth uselessly before stuttering, "she...she's all like...not right! I don't know what's happening, but something is wrong with her!"

Lawrence grabbed his echo and booted it back up. Alarm rang through him as he watched the screen flicker and distort along with a dozen missed calls and messages from Felicity.

The corruption on the screen consumed everything and the next moment Lawrnece felt a painful surge through his cybernetics.

He cried out and clutched his forehead, blinking he found Crake leaning over him.

"Lawrence?"

"Argh fuck," he hissed and drew a sharp breath. "Angel...fucking dammit...she's lost control."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess that's another 7 and a half K of people talking ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> BTW the sapphire mirror was referenced in chapters 11 and 16 :3 in case you forgot, cause I know its hard to remember every thing update by update. 
> 
> Thanks to the gang who always comment, you know who you are, I frickin <3 you guys, cheers! As always, a little comment makes my day brighter :3 and I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) Thanks to [Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who helped out with some dialogue once again. I don't even know where any more. She reads everything lol and adds her input.
> 
> Please let me know if you read and enjoyed the update, cheers :D
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programing language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	30. Hollow Point Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for the Hollow Point ark, lol it ended up being a whopping 35320 words! This is a shorter than average chapter but I'll make it up to you with the next update which is about 9k long. 
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and support x, now onto Tim making poor life choices that we all love to read.

"Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Lawrence's cursing did nothing to abate the tension within him. His head was pounding, and his cybernetics were jolting uncontrollably. With one hand covering his eye - to spare him some grief - he glanced up at Nyx and Crake. Lawrence considered his options carefully, before removing his watch, and thankfully the AI’s eyed him back knowingly.

"You have to stay here," he said to them as he shoved the watch into Janey's hand. "Janey, you too, the house isn't safe."

It was just like before when they were in the Dust, and Angel was trapped in some awful dream. He'd felt his cybernetics play up, and his sniper rifle activated, but this, this was far worse. She was on the other side of the house, and already the wires in his head were alight and burning into his mind.

He turned on Athena. "Do you have any weapons in the house?!"

"Of course," she replied almost haphazardly, not yet realising the gravity of the situation.

"Quick with me, grab everything you can."

He bolted for the door, and when Athena made no motion to follow he snapped at her, "Athena! Let's move!"

They left Janey holding the watch bewildered with Nyx and Crake by her side.

"What's happening?" Athena barked as they ran up the stairs three at a time.

"Angel has lost control, her mind can sync with every piece of software, and if you don't want your grenade launchers or microwaves to go off, I suggest you get them out of here fast."

Athena's eyes grew wide, and she hastily nodded before fleeing his side to assemble her gear.

Angel's presence was in his head well before he reached the hall. His cybernetic eye twisted back rendering his vision black and red. Crying out Lawrence fell against the wall and dug his fingers in his temple, anything to steer the pain away in his head.

"Fuck," was the only word he could squeeze out. He blindly groped at the plaster and pried himself up.

"ANGEL!" He called, though no one replied.

His left eye was rotating from static, to black, to red at a brutal pace and his right could only focus on the Eridium violet glow at the end of the passage.

He was too short of breath to call again, frantically he gripped at his chest as panic and dread towered over him. All Lawrence could manage was to crawl forward, supported by the wall, to the living room where she slept. His cybernetics continued to surge electricity over his mind and body, it was torture, though he pressed on.

Stumbling ahead he landed on his hand and knees; finally making it to the living room. He was struggling to breathe, as if the air carried weight to it, panting he pulled his head up and found her.

Angel was curled up in a tight ball, fingers scratching at her head and a vibrant purple hue encased her. Not only that, half the contents of the room were suspended mid-air, some of them swirled around her as if caught in a whirlwind. The whites of her tattoos danced across the room as they sporadically flashed with increasing intensity.

The rush of blood in Lawrence’s own head had drowned out all other sounds until she screamed.

It was inhuman, consumed with anguish and terror.

"ANGEL!"

Lawrence dove forward, landing on his chest, he stretched out and finally reached her. The second he grabbed her hand a wave of energy that he couldn’t even explain surged through him. With a roar of pain, his cybernetics sparked and cut to black. Lawrence drew blood from biting his tongue, as he collapsed from the shock and agony.

Though now holding onto her, it was as if he'd reached the eye of the storm. Everything around them seemed to cease to exist. Her cries were soft whimpers, as she rocked back and forth on the floor.

"Don't hurt them, don't make me do it. I don't want to do it. Bring them back, please. Please forgive me."

She kept muttering the same words over and over, like a prayer, she begged for forgiveness from some unknown being.

"Angel?" Lawrence gently shook her. "Kiddo, please, it's just a nightmare, you need to wake up!"

Angel only cried out, tears flowed down her face, and she kept muttering the same words.

"Don't make me do it."

"Angel," he tried more sternly, though unknowingly he elicited a tone her father likely used.

Her eyes shot open in absolute panic, and the eye of the storm passed. Lawrence howled and rocked into her as the pain swelled through his mind once again.

"ANGEL! It's me, It's Tim! You have to focus on me! Just my cybernetics! please"

Angel only shook her head with worry and fear.

"H-help me," she begged and clutched at his shirt, "I can't control it!"

"Yes, you can!" Lawrence pulled her in close, her tear-stained cheeked rested in his neck, and he whispered in her ear. "Let your mind sync with my cybernetics and nothing else, focus on stabilising that. Focus on just that."

She rocked back and forth into him, and her breaths were quick and desperate.

"I-I can't."

She whimpered and tried to squirm away, but he did not give up.

"Come on, I know you can do it." Lawrence strained to keep his tone light and soothing, though inside, his mind screamed at him to let her go and flee. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes tight as another wave of unknown energy washed over him.

Though, his eye powered back up.

"That's it."

Angel cried out, and whites of her tattoos sparked alight with unrest.

"Just let your mind focus on the one thing."

The next part was the most painful. Lawrence's eye rotated back to its correct position, and he groaned at the discomfort.

"You can do this."

Soon after static filled his vision before his sight returned.

Gingerly he pushed her away and looked down at the tiny trembling girl in his arms. Her eyes were clenched tight, tears trailed down her cheeks, and she was terribly pale.

"Angel, you need to wake up now."

She shook her head.

"Come on, please wake up," he gently shook her trying to encourage her to come back to him. It was only when he yelled one final time, did he reach her.

"Angel!"

Her eyes flew open, and her pupils drew into narrow slits before blowing out in fear. Everything around them crashed to the ground, the sofa landed with a thud, and Lawrence dived to the side with Angel in her arms as the coffee table fell where they had sat.

He was wheezing when he pulled her upright, utterly exhausted from the strain his mind and body just forced on him. Though he reasoned it would be nothing compared to what she must be feeling.

"Angel?"

Thankfully, realisation crept across her face. The waves of purple light around her ceased to exist, and her tattoos faded to a soft glow.

"Tim?"

Her jaw trembled before she wailed and crawled back into his arms.

"It's ok, you're ok. It was just a dream, you're ok, sweetheart," he murmured words of comfort to her as they sat on the floor, both utterly worn and exhausted.

* * *

"Don't worry no one is hurt, everyone is ok," Nyx murmured softly beside her.

"But it was so close! My mind was everywhere, I could feel it. If Tim hadn't-"

"Angel," Nyx started firmly, and for a moment her heart strained inside her from hearing her Dad's firm tone. Though the next words to leave him were soft, and his dark gem blue eyes scanned over her with worry.

"Everyone is ok...are you?"

She closed her eyes, not to hide Nyx - A younger Jack - from view, but so he wouldn't see the tears already building in her eyes.

"I don't know." She hunched in on her self, knees at her chest and hands curled into tiny bunches. "I keep having these headaches... and such... vivid dreams."

"Of him?"

Angel noted that Nyx never said Jack's name, not to her or to Tim and if he did refer to Jack, his voice would drop to a threatening undertone.

"Sometimes," Angel paused, squeezing her eyes tighter to hold back the tears, "but not this time."

Nyx silenced for a bit, and his hand coiled over hers. Though she could not feel anything but the static, it was more than any solace Jack ever offered her.

"Was it...Tania?"

Angel thought back, the details of the dream eluded her but one thing was for sure; her face. Tania had screamed at her, flesh melting and her cheeks caving in as she grabbed Angel and smothered her under water.

Angel nodded slowly before continuing, "she will never stop looking for me...I know it."

"She won't get to you."

Angel appreciated Nyx's confidence even if she had none for herself. When she finally blinked blearily and opened her eyes, she found Nyx was now laying just an arms reach away next to her on the bed; his hand still over hers.

"Do you...um..want to talk about it?"

 _Not really_.

However, Angel did not want to replicate Tim's choices. Burying himself behind walls and snapping at anyone who tried to peak over them.

"Tania...she was trying to drown me or smother my mind. I was doing things I didn't want to do."

Angel noticed the flame of fury across Nyx's gaze. Though it was gone as quickly as it came, she recalled how Crake bore the same look when Tim was suffering.

"It was awful, I felt like my mind was suffocating and so I kept trying to reach out...that's when I think it happened. When I lost control."

"Well, Tim and his trusty eye saved the day," Nyx rolled onto his back, head behind his arms.

"Yeah..."

Angel couldn't recall too much of what happened, she remembered his face, Tim's so close to hers. Urging her to calm her mind and focus on him. She'd pushed everything she had into that cybernetic eye, she could have overloaded it and fried Tim's brain in a blink of an eye.

Angel drew a pained breath, her chest felt winded, like she'd be crushed or suffocated. There was something else pestering her at the back of the mind, though she could not place it. She thought she felt something else in Tim's head.

"Does Tim...have any other cybernetics?"

Nyx rolled his head to the side and eyed her carefully. The look he gave her was reason enough to suspect the answer was 'yes', though the blue AI did not admit it.

"Nah, just the eye. Jack wasn't fond of Tim being a single hair different than him."

Angel nodded slowly, accepting that there were still things not even Nyx would tell her.

"You know," a gentle grin tugged on the corners of his face, "I don't have a primary function any more, that was the first thing to go when I got free will, but Tim did give me like an honorary one anyway."

Angel frowned, yet waited for him to continue.

"Because of Crake really, he's still 'acting' on his," Nyx scoffed at the mention of his brother.

The blue AI was rambling again, Angel smiled curiously, and knew he'd find his point soon enough. She was too exhausted to do anything but listen.

"Oh, so, my new primary function! Which isn't exactly real, but you know, I can pretend. Is to protect you," he beamed back at her. Eyes alight waiting for her reply.

Angel huffed out a laugh, "I don't need protection. I'm a Siren, Nyx." He pouted, and she smiled gently, "but thank you, that's really sweet."

"Then what's wrong?"

"It's everyone else I'm worried about...like what if-"

"No more what if's," Nyx almost snapped at her, and if it were not for all the mental conditioning she'd under gone to convince herself Nyx was not Jack she may have flinched.

"No one got hurt, and you're ok."

Angel nodded slowly into the pillow.

"What's Crake's one?"

Nyx gave her a perplexed look, seemingly he'd already forgotten what he just told her.

"Crake's primary function?"

"Oh, well it was the same as mine when we were bound to our AI laws; 'protect the keeper of the watch.'"

"Oh."

"He's all bent out of shape cause he doesn't know how to act now that it's gone."

Angel may have had similar circumstances, but she always had free will. She couldn't fathom what it would be like. To have a role forced onto you for your entire life and then have it stripped away in an instant. Do you keep following that purpose? Even if it is your choice to do so? Or do you change everything about yourself, just in spite?

No wonder Crake had been acting strangely; well, strange for him.

"I think I'm ready to sleep now."

Angel tugged on the covers of the bed. Janey and Athena had graciously allowed her their room for the night, while they remained shackled up in the garage. Angel bit the inside of her lip, were they afraid of her? Nyx seemingly read her mind and called her out of her thoughts.

"Don't sweat it, and I'll stay here if you want?"

Angel nodded, "I'd like that."

Nyx pixelated a few feet away into the chair beside the bed. He truly was the laziest of them all, never bothering to 'walk' anywhere.

"I'll stay as long as Tim does, can't really stray too far..." he mumbled at the end, and Angel knew his confinement to the watch wore him down. She had to set him free, the second she was safe on Sanctuary she'd find the means to get him out of that device and into something tangible.

"Want a bedtime story?" Nyx mocked quietly.

"No Thank you," she huffed amused before she yawned and snuggled her head into the pillow.

As always she prayed for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Lawrence sat in his usual corner on the balcony, now next to an ashtray Janey had set out for him. The deep sapphire blue of Nyx was beyond the glass slider door, resting on the bedside chair watching over Angel.

Lawrence did not hear what the AI had said, and he hoped Nyx was keeping things in perspective. Even with his new cosmetic changes he still sounded and looked very much like Jack.

"He didn't say anything inappropriate did he?" Lawrence whispered to Crake.

The red digistruct paused for a moment as he silently communicated back with his brother before he answered.

"He says he's still mad at you, that you're an asshole and being naked in front of her is the top tier of being ina-"

"Ok," Lawrence huffed and cut Crake off. He flicked his cigarette to the side, and some of the ash landed in the tray.

Despite the interruption Crake continued, "he told her it's perfectly normal to be scared and to have night terrors." Crake stated, "He even told her about you."

"Oh," Lawrence glanced back to the bedroom. It had been a long time since he'd had any such dreams.

"About the dreams, you had about Jack."

"Not about Jack, about the AI."

“Is there any difference,” Crake muttered sourly.

Lawrence frowned and studied the magenta AI up and down, who was doing a marvellous job at not making eye contact. He was fully aware both AI's loathed Jack. Nyx being very vocal about it, but up until recently, Crake had remained mostly silent on the matter.

"Something you want to say?"

The look Crake flashed him was both hostile and unnerving. He muttered something else under his breath, but Lawrence did not catch what it was.

"Nothing has changed. We're leaving in the morning. You and I know it's the only way, I need to get back to Helios."

Crake sighed, which puzzled Lawrence as he did not think the AI had ever made such a sound. Breathing out air was not a necessity and was performed purely to mimic human behaviour.

"Just..." Crake made to say something else but abruptly stopped. He pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Just what?" even Lawrence's patience for the red AI was growing thin.

"Nothing." With that said Crake flashed away into the watch without a word of goodbye.

* * *

Angel sought to bury herself in the covers in a weak attempt to shield herself from the distant yelling. Yet, the further she immersed herself in her pillow and blankets the louder they raised. The voices were coming closer, and Angel groaned irritably at being woken up. She'd scarcely slept and woke up a dozen times. Thankfully, every time she stirred Nyx jumped out of Tim's watch and kept her company until she fell back asleep.

"You can't go to them!" Janey's shrill voice was unsettling.

Angel wearily poked her head up, it was coming from the garage, and the staircase. Someone was stomping up.

"ATHENA! Get back here and talk to me!"

Angel was well awake now. Janey's distraught voice was reason enough for Angel to grip the covers and shrink into the bed.

"What if they hurt you? This seems serious, they're Vault Hunters!"

The hallway door was slammed open now, the women were arguing as they paced down the hall.

“They may just want to talk, or I they may not, either way, I can handle myself," Athena rebutted.

“Athena! I thought you said you were over this kind of stuff!”

Lawrence emerged from the ensuite, and Angel noted he was wearing his holster, gear-chip and jacket.

“What’s going on?” Angel whispered quietly. “Did we do something?”

Lawrence looked towards the sound of the commotion before he let out a long breath and walked towards her. He knelt down beside the bed and rested his hand awkwardly at her side. As if he were unsure whether to reach out not.

He spent a moment looking at the ground, and Angel noticed his tells were bubbling forth. His thumbs were clawing at the inside of his palms, and his eyes were looking anywhere but on her.

"Tim?"

He glanced up and pulled his hand away. His expression was tense and tinged with worry. When he finally spoke his eyes darted up to meet hers.

“Athena is going to take you rest of the way, she’ll get you to the Vault Hunters,” he spoke evenly, not letting his eyes leave her's for a moment.

"What?" Angel could only helplessly question him, but she heard correctly. She tugged restlessly at the covers around her.

"No..." she whispered before she shook her head and asserted herself. "No, we have a deal, you and I are going there together."

“Well...the deal's off.”

Angel shifted upright and leaned against the headboard. Offended by his curt and dry reply. Slowly, and with painful acceptance, it dawned on her. Why he wanted to leave, and where he was going to go.

“You...you’re going back to him aren't you.”

“Angel," Lawrence looked at his hands and restlessly adjusted his watch. "It's not that simple, I just-”

“Why!?” She was sitting up now, and the covers were tossed aside.

Lawrence made a pained noise as he stared at her then back to the floor. He did not answer her question.

"Look, I'll stay till the end of the day, and I'll make sure everything is ready-"

"No!" Angel snapped back at him, "Tell me why you're leaving!"

"It's nothing to do with you," he pleaded softly, but Angel was tired of this act, tired of the lies, the secrets, and worst of all his unspoken attachment to her father.

"Bullshit."

Lawrence sighed and pinched at his temple.

"I'm going back to Helios, there is something I need to sort out," he finally admitted with a soft whisper. As if he hoped she would not hear his confession.

"No," Angel was shaking her head, "No you can't. You can't go back there, to him!"

Lawrence said nothing.

"He won't let you go! Not again," Angel was rocking back into the bed now.

"You have nothing to fear," Lawrence grounded. "I can handle Jack,"

"Oh, I'm sure you can," she snarled bitterly.

Lawrence leaned back on the floor, his eyes widen as he looked her over. Trying to seek out her meaning.

"Tania told me, about how you 'rescued' me.'

And with those words, the colour faded from Lawrence's face. He opened his mouth, but nothing but a stutter escaped him.

"What..um...ah, did she...did she tell you anything else?"

Angel pushed herself off the mattress, shoved her shoulder forward, and made Lawrence pull back from the bed. She got to her feet and looked down at the man who looked like her father.

"She told me how you planned to kill me," Angel spoke venomously, and she could feel her powers unwillingly flow forth. The whites of her tattoos flickered.

"Angel," his tone dropped to a plea.

"And it was all so Jack would notice you! And go back to you!" She screamed at him, and suddenly every difficult conversation she had practised in her head poured forth.

"Go!" she wailed. "GO! You are not my Dad! Nothing is keeping you here!"

“Angel, there is more to this than you think, if you just let me-” Lawrence started again.

She had enough. No more lies, no more links to Handsome Jack. She should have known this would have happened. Everything Jack touched was tainted.

“It's pretty simple really, you're choosing HIM over ME.” Angel made to leave, she'd seen enough, heard enough.

Lawrence pulled himself to his feet, this time he had the height. He towered down on her and placed both his hands on her shoulders and pulled her forward.

“I cannot save you! Do you understand?" his voice raised, "I am sick, I am broken. There is nothing I can offer you that is good."

His eyes searched her desperately, "you’ll be far safer with Athena and Janey. Please, Angel, I-”

“You mean I'll be far away,” she cut him off once more.

Angel tugged her shoulders out of his grasp and stepped away from him, and for the briefest of moments, Angel thought Tim had changed his mind. As the voice that spoke next was the same as his.

"I'll be with you," Nyx's blue glow radiated behind Lawrence.

Angel had been so consumed by her fears and thoughts of abandonment that she hadn't noticed Nyx and Crake leaving the watch.

"Nyx?" Angel brashly shoved Lawrence away and walked over to the blue digistruct.

He rested a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her, his gem eyes were downcast with concern.

"I'm going with you. I'm not going back to Jack. Not now, or ever." He paused and rolled his head to the side, "Well, that's if you let me. You're gonna need to help me out with that, I'll need a new place to live'"

Angel's eyes grew wide as Nyx continued to talk, a warmth blossomed inside her chest, she wasn't going to be alone.

Yet, that feeling would not last, slowly she turned back to Tim and Crake and was instantly hit with an emotional blow from both of them.

Lawrence's jaw was set tight, his teeth almost bared, he looked ready to fight, but that wasn't the worst of it; Crake was utterly destroyed. The red digistruct said nothing, he opened his mouth to say something, only to promptly shut it, heave in a deep 'breath' and step closer to Lawrence's side.

"You're...leaving us?" Lawrence spoke quietly.

"No, Tim. You're leaving." Nyx crossed his arms. "I told you I wouldn't go back. I am never going back to that place, to him. If you want to, that's on you."

Tim's face dropped, and Angel felt the familiar beast of guilt stir within in her. Yet it surrendered the moment Tim's face drew smooth and focused once again. Handsome Jack was taking over.

"Crake?" Nyx's tone softened as he turned to his brother. "Don't go with him, remember how it was? You can't go back to that. Please. Just stay here."

Crake only silently shook his head.

"No point dragging this out," Lawrence growled.

His whole demeanour had changed, and suddenly Angel found herself being the one looking pleadingly between him and the digistructs. Tim didn't even glance Angel's way. His eyes were fixed on Nyx until he pulled himself away, adjusting his coat and walked down the hall.

The look in Lawrence's eyes had been unreadable. He was wearing Handsome Jack's face now, his defence when he thought the world turned on him.

“Tim please, come on, let's not leave like this!” Nyx called and pixelated after him.

But neither Crake or Tim replied.

Angel raised her hand slowly, the whites of her tattoos bloomed across the walls. She watched Tim walk away as she latched her mind onto the watch. She found Nyx and welcomed him into her subconscious and passed him over into her echo.

The Nyx beside her burst away scattering pixels everywhere, as he was no longer digistructed or bound to the watch. Crake paused, he turned back to watch his brother disappear, and Angel would never forget that face; the look of hurt and betrayal as he slowly turned around and trailed after Tim.

* * *

When she heard the motorcycle start, she threw herself from the couch. Angel reasoned with her self that it was only Janey revving the engine, or taking it out to run errands. Nonetheless, Angel sprinted for the door.

Tim said he wouldn't leave till the end of the day, but, how could she honestly trust that? Nyx was right, they couldn't part like this, not after a fight.

She was shoving her arms into the coat as she hurried down the steps to the garage. When she reached the base, the door was already wide open, and Janey stood in the entrance.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

Angel's approach stopped, as did her heart. She wordlessly opened her mouth open, and then the tears burst forth.

"No, we didn't..." she shook her head, God, she was sick of crying, her eyes stung as they trailed down her cold, pale cheeks.

"We didn't say goodbye,"

"I know," Janey pulled her into a hug. "I tried to make him stay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats a wrap! If you read and enjoyed this ark then please let me know in the comments <3 There is one ark left, and then its the finale! :O !!!!!
> 
> Also I hit the 150K mark (total working word count 199810) !
> 
>  **Next Update:** Becoming Jack Part VII - Tim becomes the perfect Jack and demands a reward.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	31. Becoming Jack Part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MASSIVE thanks to [Eternal-Garbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who beta read part of this chapter, or pretty much all of it. Thanks babe.

"'Lawrence', it suits you." The Hyperion employee nodded encouragingly to his co-worker. "I think we can all agree it's an improvement on 'Dingleberry'"

The other man laughed, it was genuine and heartfelt. "I would have married him just for the name, honestly."

"Then let's cheers to a beautiful wedding and to a new name, to 'Timothy Lawrence'."

The drinks clinked between the two men, followed by more laughter.

The glass Lawrence had been drinking from was carefully placed to the side. If he'd held it any longer, the thin crystal neck would have snapped in half. Pure unrefined rage boiled inside of him as he watched the two men celebrate. It licked at his insides, and his hand curled around the neck of the glass once again. Snapping it was the only way to contain the fire inside of him. The glass cracked in his hand, and Lawrence smiled at the thought of the man's neck under his fingers.

Despite that lapse of control, Lawrence was proficient at containing his fury, nurturing it, and expelling it at the precise moment, and so he resigned to finishing his meal.

It was compulsory for him to venture into public; to be seen eating with the common people, and by 'common', he meant the top leagues of Hyperion, at the best restaurant Helios could provide. The pocket-watch Jack's were sent to mingle on the lower levels to fulfil the illusion that Handsome Jack had eyes and ears everywhere. Lawrence never performed such dismal responsibilities, as to everyone else around him, he was THE Handsome Jack.

Lawrence ordered another drink to simmer the violent thoughts inside of him. That man, the one celebrating just the table away from him owned something that wasn't his. A name, so long forgotten it was strange on Lawrence's ears.

If he couldn't have it, then no one could.

He waited until they finished, paid their bill and went their separate ways. Lawrence called the waiter over, tipped her generously and made sure to curl an arm around her waist as he left, before stalking after the other 'Timothy Lawrence'.

"Sir." The newly-wed greeted him with a bow of his head.

Lawrence offered back a grin that beguiled his true nature. A smile that was warm and genuine except to those who knew where to look; Jack's smile never reached his eyes.

The elevator doors slid open, and the two of them entered.

"Which floor, sir?" he asked, brow raised as Lawrence lingered behind him.

"My office."

"Of course."

Rage, it was something Jack relished and encouraged, and long ago Lawrence had to impersonate that anger. Now there were no tricks, no deceiving his own emotions. Jack's fury was intoxicating, more invigorating than any drug he'd ever consumed and it engulfed Lawrence like a fever to his core.

The doors closed behind them, the newlywed selected Lawrence's floor, and patiently waited in the corner.

The moment they started their accent Lawrence grabbed the man by the back of his hair and jabbed a hand under his ribs. The newlywed's legs buckled, a sharp cry left him before Lawrence drove his face down into the railing. The sicking crack told him he'd broken the man’s jaw and taken out a few teeth.

The newlywed sobbed and curled in on himself, spitting blood and a handful of teeth onto the floor. He was a corporate higher up and knew better than to fight back, but Lawrence wished he did. The man flinched and buried his broken mouth into his chest, and wailed into the floor.

Blood dripped down the railing and ran down the mirrored walls.

"You won't take your husband's name, he will take yours, do you understand," Lawrence's tone was low and cruel, ensuring there would be no misunderstandings here today.

When the man only sobbed and cough up more flem and blood, Lawrence drew his lip into a snarl and jabbed his shoe into the man's spine.

"I need an answer, so I know you understand."

"Y-yes, yes!" he sobbed.

"'Yes', what?"

"I-I'll ch-change the name! I'll change my name!"

Lawrence tilted his head and watched the snivelling 'thing' below him retreat in on himself. He was more worm than man, wriggling in his own body fluids and trying and failing to contain his pathetic cries.

"Change it by the end of the day."

Lawrence leaned over and hit the emergency stop on the elevator. When the man made no motion to move he bent down and hauled the man to his feet.

"Get out."

"This isn't my stop-"

Lawrence drove his hands into the doors and pulled them apart. They were halfway up a level, but that did not concern him. He kicked the man in the shin and watched him fall onto the floor before.

"End of the day," Lawrence reminded him as he released the stop function of the elevator. The doors closed and he continued his accent to his office.

* * *

Lawrence glanced at his wrist-watch and softly cursed, it was late, and he'd already missed his scheduled 'date' with whomever Jack had lined up. His fingers traced down his face and ran along the clips on his chin as his mentally listed off the evening tasks he'd not yet completed. There were reviews required on the reports from R&D's new slag sniper, debriefing with the head of security on Opportunity's defences, lining up Friday Firing, and finally the matter of 'Timothy Lawrence'.

His watch finally flashed indicating it was the end of the cycle. He should have been in bed hours ago, drink in hand, finishing up the last of his tasks. But he did not want to take his work home tonight, well, not this kind of work. Lawrence had been true to his word - as Handsome Jack was an honest man - and waited until the end of the cycle to check in on 'Timothy Lawrence'.

A swift search of the employee database was all it took to secure the man's fate. Typing in 'Timothy Lawrence' he received one hit; a photo of the man from the restaurant came forth, underneath were some basic drabble about his work ethic, notable achievements and what not. He was head of requisitions, twelve years he'd been at Hyperion, and still, he did not seem to understand how the game worked.

Handsome Jack gives you an order and you obey.

Lawrence summoned a loader to collect 'Timothy' from his apartment. There was an altercation, the cleaner bots were required, and additional security, however precisely eight minutes later 'Timothy' was in his office.

Lawrence didn't drag it out, the one rare difference between him and Jack. Jack loved to rile up his victims, entertain them with hope and later watch it leave their eyes. Lawrence fancied constant fear with no room for hope or forgiveness, and so when Jack wasn't here to watch his performance, he executed his work.

His hunting blade, the one Jack had given him only a month earlier for their birthdays, was driven into the man's abdomen. 'Timothy' released a blood gurgling scream, and latched onto Lawrence’s front. The more he struggled, the deeper the blade severed his insides.

"I told you to change the damn name!" Lawrence rasped into the man's ear as he dragged the blade upwards.

Some pathetic plee about it taking 48 hours, amongst another excuse was ignored by Lawrence.

He cut the newlywed from the nape to his neck. Just had Jack had done long ago to the escort, who's named Lawrence could not recall.

The smell was always terrible, intensities weren’t meant to sit outside the body for a reason. Lawrence wiped a hand down his front to remove what the other man had expelled onto him. The newlywed's glassy eyes stared up at him, blinking one last time before they stilled.

Lawrence cursed the man's stupidity one last time, before leaving the corpse on the marble floor. Returning to his chair, he swivelled around and admired Elpis’ soft glow as he cleaned his blade.

He wasn't finished removing the gore from the knife's edge when an almost silent vibration revealed someone had entered the office. There was no announcement, or alarm, meaning it could only be one of two people; Jack or Nisha.

Lawrence continued to busy himself with his work as heeled footsteps approached the landing. A low hum crept up behind him, the sound of Nisha's purr was smooth and silky on Lawrence's ears. He felt firm hands press on his shoulders as they snaked their way under his collar from behind the chair.

“You’ve missed a spot,” Nisha whispered from behind into his ear, as she flicked some of the slaughter from his chest.

With a pleased sigh, she abruptly swivelled the chair around, so they were face to face. Large amber eyes met Lawrence's pale green and blue. As she studied his front - eyeing the blood across him - want and desire crept into every corner of her face.

“Fun night?”

“You could say that,” Lawrence murmured back. He could not withhold a soft-spoken lust in return.

Killing always brought that on and missing his 'date' only added to the frustration. Lawrence sat upright and squirmed slightly to loosen the tightness in his groin.

“I came to tell you the puppy has all grown up.”

“Hmmm?” Lawrence glanced up from her waist; it was a gorgeous figure, and he couldn't help but continuously admire it.

“You’ve let him off his leash, parading around, drunk no less.” She hooked both arms around his neck and swayed her hips as she leaned in close.

“I went there looking for you, and here you are working away while he enjoys the bubbles and music.”

Something wild flared up in Lawrence’s chest; Nisha thought he was Jack. Jack was out celebrating a win with their lawyers after a successful case against Tediore executives, not Lawrence.

Shame and courtesy were a trait he owned aeons ago, and so Lawrence beckoned her closer with a sly smile and firm hand on her hip.

"I let him take the night off. Kiddo needs to unwind some time, or he becomes a pain in the ass."

One leg was raised, then another, and a moment later Nisha was straddled on his lap. She wore the same navy velvet dress when she'd first intruded in his apartment. When Jack told him, 'convince Nisha, and then I'd be impressed'.

Lawrence mused at their past interactions, at how tense and brittle things had once been between them, all while enjoying the view as she relaxed on his lap.

"Don't let him get too carried away," Nisha cooed back to him, hips bouncing teasingly on his thighs.

He tried to restrain himself, and Lawrence bit the inside of his lip, though it did nothing to stop the very painful erection pushing against his thigh. Nisha was pleased with the reaction she was eliciting and ran her hands down his front again. Wielding no concern for the blood and gore staining her evening attire.

Lawrence closed his eyes, and for a moment he imagined him inside of her, or her inside of him. Anything, but spending one more night alone in his bed.

“He was once your attack dog, but now you’re letting him sleep on the furniture…” She paused as she eyed him carefully, “even in your bed.”

 _Well, that wasn't true._ Jack and Lawrence lived in the same apartment, but Jack had not once stepped over the threshold into his bedroom, nor Lawrence into Jack's, save for when the trances consumed his mind.

“Are you jealous?” Lawrence leaned in, fuck restraining himself, and let his teeth drag down her exposed throat. When he reached her breasts, he pulled her in tight making sure every part of her was in his grip.

"Never," Nisha hummed appreciatively, before continuing. “Just note, he may get a little comfortable and when you ask him to move, then he’ll-”

She bit down on Lawrence’s neck and simulated an attack, before abruptly hooking him by the chin and steering his jaw up, so his throat was exposed.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, baby,” Nisha sang into his ear, “for when the inevitable happens, for when he leaves you. You know they always do.”

Lawrence kept his face relaxed, years of training had enabled him with perfect control over his emotion, yet a fire raged deep in his gut. The realisation that Nisha had been fueling Jack’s paranoia made Lawrence want to spit fire and burn her beautiful form to the ground.

While he thought of murder and carnage, Nisha toyed with his hair. Her hand ran down his neck, another moment of self-control for Lawrence; to not flinch as she traced her fingers over the concealed port. He closed his eyes and slowly ground his hips into hers.

_Fuck it._

Lawrence rubbed his thumbs impatiently at the split in her dress, she rocked back allowing him to hitch it up, revealing bronze toned thighs. The blunt tips of his fingers run deep into her flesh, he was starved for affection, craving for an ounce of warmth and human contact that wasn't the whores Jack sent him.

Both hands closed in under her dress and found nothing but smooth skin. She wasn’t wearing underwear, of course, she fucking wasn’t.

“Nice,” he smiled her, in the same dorky way Jack would.

He let his fingers trail over her thighs, teasing her with every stroke that inched closer to her. Nisha leaned back and whispered words of praise, 'good boy' and the likes as she undresses him from his jacket, taking her time with each button.

Lawrence rolled his shoulders back and let her remove the garment, soon after her hands were against his dress shirt. He buried his face into her chest, bestowing her with harsh kisses. Gradually he parted her legs, letting his fingers feverishly stoke at her inner thighs before he granted a digit to slowly slide along her clit.

Nisha rocked into him, and Lawrence released a shudder of a breath. Desire made his eyes blackout and his head dizzy as he slowly rubbed at that tiny pocket of nerves which made Nisha bite her lip and dig her nails into him. He let her warmth consume him, she was already wet and waiting, and finally, Lawrence let a finger slide inside of her.

She ground herself into his hand, breathing heavily, and tugging at his hair. Lawrence was ready to sweep her off her feet and fuck her into the desk when a slow clap echoed across the room.

"Oh, boy, oh hell!" Jack cheered. Nisha's tugging stilled, and Lawrence let a cruel smile draw across his face.

"Ain't this a fucking treasure! You sly dog," Jack roared with laughter as he approached the desk. Still clapping enthusiastically.

Nisha's eyes drew into narrow slits as she yanked down Lawrence's collar revealing his sniper mark. The ONE distinction between himself and Jack.

"Babe, Nisha, come here," Jack smiled sweetly as she threw himself from Lawrence's lap.

It was a look he'd never forget, one Lawrence would cherish forever. Her expression changed from confusion to recognition and finally landed on loathing.

Now, Lawrence knew for a fact that she fancied the idea of both him and Jack in her bed, however, in this scenario she was in control, the one on top. Never had she'd been at the bottom of the tier, the one with the last laugh.

"Oh, Nish! Come on!" Jack laughed as she fixed her dress and hissed a vile curse at the both of them.

"Come back!" Jack couldn't keep a straight face and continued to relish himself in the situation he'd walked in on.

Lawrence sat back upright and tugged on his pants to position himself more comfortably. When Nisha did not return Jack's calls, he sighed and resigned his attention to Lawrence.

"Look at you other-me, where were you hoping that was going to go?"

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders. "All the way if she let me."

Jack shook his head and raised a finger in mock disapproval.

"Naughty boy."

He glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the mess on the floor. Lawrence had already forgotten about 'Timothy', Nisha was a well-earned distraction.

"Something you want to share with the class?" Jack raised a brow as he stalked over and sat on the edge of the desk.

Lawrence did not miss how his eyes lingered over his groin before sliding up his chest, to finally meet his gaze.

"A nobody, who stepped out of line. I'll take care of it in the morning."

Jack was satisfied with this answer. Running a hand down his face, he sighed and asked Lawrence about his night. As they chatted Lawrence noticed how Jack swayed a little, apparently the celebrations had put Jack in a good mood, and a little drunk it seemed; a rarity.

When they finally left the office for the night, Lawrence was itching to get to his room and resolved the problem in his pants. Jack offered to help with wink before Lawrence shooed him away into his bedroom, into Nisha's waiting and fiery talons.

Despite everything, it was just another day being Handsome Jack.

* * *

Nisha fucked off back to Pandora a few days later, not before Jack walked out of his bedroom bent almost in half. Lawrence snicked quietly, and Nisha sent him a series of threats from Lynchwood promising him of situations he'd prefer to avoid.

By the end of the week, Lawrence was exhausted, worn and itching for something else other than work. If he could not have intimacy, then the next best thing was a well-made drink. He wasn’t even done cutting up his limes when Jack called out to him, voice low and bitter.

“Other-me, what are you doing?”

Lawrence knew it wasn't a question worth answering. Statements of that nature were only an invitation for Jack to retaliate, and so Lawrence hummed back; ignorance was the best play sometime.

“What's all this...why is the sugar out?” Jack waved a hand across the kitchen bench, his face drawn into a frown.

“You have a diet to follow, cupcake, don’t give me a reason to take away what privileges I’ve already given you.” Jack pointed a finger at Lawrence's half prepared cocktail.

Jack may occasionally drink - beer and scotch only - yet Lawrence was not allowed to sway ‘off menu’. However, when it had been a painfully dire week he would quietly prepare cocktails in secret in his kitchen. Now that he lived in Jack's apartment it was only a matter of time before he was caught.

"Sit," Lawrence gave Jack an inviting grin, making sure the gesture suggested promises of more. "I'll make you one," he kept his tone a low purr akin to Nisha’s. Just like the Lawbringer he could get under Jack's skin too and not all of it was bad.

 _Everyone_ had a role to play in this household.

Jack was feeling generous, up until now he'd been accommodating, enjoying the new domestic familiarity. But something was irking the man, every day Lawrence swore an extra strand of grey made its way into his hair.

And he had a very good idea why.

Jack’s precious key was not charging fast enough. Lawrence mentally laughed at the idea of revenge, did he not intend to sabotage Jack's plan to use the Siren? Never mind that now, Jack’s plan was foiling on itself without any intervention.

Lawrence was not finished combining the sugar syrup when Jack snapped, he swore he saw a shimmer of violet under the mask. _Not now,_ he thought. God, he could not deal with more Eridium tranced Jack. Thankfully, the moment passed, and the glow did not come forth, but Jack's rage did not leave so quietly.

“You're Handsome Jack, and you're in Handsome Jack's kitchen.”

He drove his hand forward and smashed the glass across the table, albeit with a little too much force. Jack cursed loudly, and a second later crimson wept from his hand. He shook his palm, spraying blood across Lawrence's front and ruining the last of his ingredients.

Next Jack inspected his hand; there was a deep cut running down the length of his palm and he started cursing.

Lawrence found his thumb tracing along his own palm and a moment later a phantom itch ran across him. Jack now bore the very mark that he claimed to have during one of his Eridium trances. When he implied they were together. That they were _equals_.

Lawrence said nothing as Jack continued to curse, jumping upwards, grabbing a dishcloth and smothering the bleeding.

"Come here," Jack beckoned him with the jerk of his head and with a voice which promised nothing good.

Lawrence slowly obeyed, he knew what was going to happen next; Jack said they both had scars. He was going to mark him as his once again. Lawrence walked around the bench and slowly offered out his right palm. Jack raised a single brow, amused at such quiet obedience yet said nothing as he picked up a shard of glass and drove it into Lawrence's flesh.

He did not wince, or make a sound as Jack dragged the shard down, pulling open a deep wound across his hand. Jack hummed appreciatively when he was finished, before admiring the identical wound on Lawrence’s right palm.

"Now go and clean this all up," Jack snarled as he pulled away.

Lawrence scowled, looking down he observed the blood flow from his hand. Once sights like that made him dizzy but that was a long time ago. Lawrence jerked his head up and pouted as he watched Jack leave, his departure almost at a close.

This wasn't right.

The fire returned and began to lick inside of him; Jack was meant to call him by his real name - when they got the scars - Jack said so himself. The fire spread further, burning in his chest and surging down his arms as Lawrence's hands drew into a tightly curled fists, ignoring the pain of the wound.

"Jack!" he called out, his voice but a bark of unleashed anger.

Jack froze in the doorway.

"Dammit, Jack, get back over here." Lawrence bared his teeth.

He had Jack's full attention now, the masked man swung around and began to stride back. There was a vicious purpose in the way he walked, it promised pain for such brash disobedience though Lawrence would not back down.

Not now.

Not when he knew what had to happen.

“Who the fricken hell do you think you are talking to?” Jack hissed at him and when Lawrence did not answer, he yelled. “WHO?!”

“Handsome Jack.”

“And _you_ are?”  

“Handsome Jack,” Lawrence rasped back.

“Good," Jack leaned back and sneered down at him.

Lawrence despised this act, he deserved more than this. He was the perfect Jack and he took pride in that. Not even Nisha could be fooled, he had passed that test a while ago. Lawrence remained silent, eyes fixed on the other man as Jack leaned in and fixed his collar; blood stained his front.

"For a moment there I thought you were going to do something REALLY stupid, other-me.”

_Other-me._

Jack's words ran through his mind, over and over, making Lawrence almost visibly shake with anger.

‘Other-me’, my ‘perfect Jack’, or on the rare occasions, ‘John’. All the names Jack called him but his real name. He was worth more than that. He _earned_ the right to be himself as well as Jack.

“No, fuck you!" Lawrence slapped Jack's hand away. "I’ve been the perfect you for long enough."

Lawrence was now the one to tower over Jack: when he wanted he could use the few inches he had over Jack in his advantage.

“When I leave this place I'm the real fucking deal, I’ve convinced your board, I've convinced your workers, your assassins - which I'm sure you're so very thankful for - and of all people, I convinced Nisha."

Lawrence was ranting by the time he finished, “for once you can suck it up, kiddo, and give me my due."

Jack burst out laughing to the point tears started rolling down his face and he wiped them with the bloody palm, leaving smears across the mask.

“Oh look at you! Standing up for yourself! So, who are you going to be _not-Jack_?"

Lawrence stood his ground as Jack began to circle him. Like the predator he was, Jack flashed his teeth and drew a wicked grin. He was looking for a weak spot, somewhere to strike, something to hurt.

"Because all _I_ see is a whiny piss-poor imitation, a shit-show of a copy. One who can't even follow basic commands!”

Jack's temper was on the scale tipping proportion, soon his rage would burst like a bubble and then Lawrence was bound for a broken arm or another blade to his wrist if he did not deal with this.

“You say and do whatever the fuck I tell you to say and do!” Jack’s words hissed down the back of Lawrence’s neck, followed by a gentle tap. When Jack did not get the reaction he wanted, he pressed down harder, digging his fingers into the concealed port in the back of Lawrence’s neck. Breath hitched in Lawrence’s throat but he would not submit, there was his future on the line, he could feel it.

“No, not tonight.” Lawrence jerked his head away, spun around and latched onto Jack.

He was faster, stronger than Jack, not to mention he had three years of hand-to-hand combat training from Wilhelm. His hands were on Jack's throat before the other man could even squeak. Lawrence's knee drove forward, digging into Jack's gut, winding him, so he fell forward. With Jack under his control, he forced the man down and into the bench in front of them.

Lawrence held him in place; one hand on the back of the neck, the other securing both of Jacks wrists to the side.

“Get off me!”

“Hmmm," Lawrence made a pleased sound as he admired the view. "Nah."

He pressed a digit into the pressure point of Jack's neck, eliciting a short hiss and an angry buck from the man below him. Lawrence closed in, driving the rest of his body into the back of Jack, and leaned forwards, his lips almost grazing Jack’s ear.

“I want a reward for being the perfect Jack.”

"Get off me!"

Jack struggled, and Lawrence straightened up, curling his hands around Jack’s wrists and twisting them to the side, just before the breaking point.

Jack cried out, "Fu-uck!"

He struggled some more, bucking into the bench trying to throw Lawrence off, but like every stallion, he was going to break. When Jack finally piped down, he drew a worn breath and growled into the bench.

"What do you want?!"

Lawrence leaned forward again once again, dragging his weight against the back of Jack as he whispered into his ear.

“Call me by my _real_ _name_.”

“Fuck off, never. You little-”

Another pressure point was hit before Lawrence grabbed Jack by the back of his hair and smeared his face into the broken glass on the bench.

Jack cried out once again, and Lawrence shouted over his turmoil.

“Call me by my real name, Jack!”

Yet Jack only growled and kicked once more.

Lawrence had one final play. He knew what Jack wanted, what he had yearned for and Lawrence would happily give it to him in exchange for the name. He removed his hand from the back of Jack's neck, and Lawrence bore a wide smirk when Jack did not pull away.

The sly bastard was actually enjoying this, but Lawrence wanted to be sure.

Keeping Jack's wrists tightly locked together, Lawrence slowly moved his free hand down Jack's front. He didn't bother with any pleasantries as he let his hand glide over Jack's hardening cock, thoughtfully tracing it up and down before he spoke again.

“If you want me, you'll say it.”

Jack tried to stifle a small gasp as Lawrence kept his hand in place.

“If you want me, _all of me_ , you’ll say the damn name.”

Lawrence ran his thumb down once again over Jack’s length, and the other man whined softly. He could never say no to this, and Lawrence was right.

“Dammit… Timothy!”

“That's what I _fucking_ thought,” Lawrence's voice was barely a whisper as he snarled into Jack’s ear.

It was instantaneous, hearing his name, his real name come from Jack.

Months - no years - of pent-up lust, rage and anticipation erupted inside him. He was going to take Jack, dominate him, assault him if he had to. He needed this far more than he thought he did.

 _Fuck_ , he wanted to hear it again and again. He wanted Jack to scream it.

Lawrence yanked Jack off the bench and swung the masked man around. The gamble paid off, and Jack did not cuss or withdraw his words, no, he only responded with the same kind of  ferocity. His hands, being free were now latched around Lawrence's throat, digging into the flesh, tearing at his hair. Utterly desperate to pull him in.

Lawrence all but slammed the rest of his body into the other man, slowly rutting against Jack as there was no denying the hardness growing between them. Lawrence’s kiss was dominant and harsh, a reflection of how Jack had first kissed him. There was no tenderness, no slowly exploring the other person or opening up and accommodating their pleasures. This was nothing like that and it never would be.

Lawrence was going to do what he wanted, just like Handsome Jack.

He bit Jack's lip, enjoying the sound the other man made as his teeth scraped against him. He put his mouth to work against Jack's exposed throat, letting his hands furrow deep into his back. He wanted all of Jack, to be on him and in him.

The sounds Jack made were intoxicating, and it dizzied Lawrence to just think about it all. The hands around Lawrence's face cupped downwards, and Jack let his fingers rest above his collarbone, softly circling where his sniper scar laid.

"Timmy, what are you going to do?" Jack briefly pulled away, eyeing him slowly and the look he bestowed on Lawrence was pure hunger.

He did not answer, and silenced Jack’s next words with another kiss. This time round Lawrence let Jack take the lead. The masked man did not need an extra invitation as he murmured between their lips, his voice gentle and possessive all at once.

"Oh, Timmy, I like this... _This_ you." Lawrence felt Jack's lips draw into a grin against his own.

His hands returned to their tugging, eager to pull him in closer just to be able to thrust harder into him. Lawrence's fingers dug into the side of the mask. He dragged them downwards, feeling the sharp edges of glass still embedded into the side of Jack’s face.

Lawrence murmured pleadingly as Jack’s hands slid under his blood painted shirt. The man groped at the flesh, tracing his abdominal muscles and hummed pleased at the shape he found. Despite Jack’s appreciation a horrible feeling of doubt consumed Lawrence, dread at the thought that Jack would back out, and take away his name. Yet the moment did not come. Jack only pushed into the kiss, called him ‘Timmy’ once again and finished with an obscene moan.

Suddenly it became a competition; both of them vigorously trying to throw the clothes off the other with maximum effort and minimum time.  

Lawrence got his hands under Jack’s collar and the jacket was loosened, carelessly tossed to the side. There was no mistaking either of their lust now. Lawrence permitted Jack to follow suit, and soon both of them were down to their last layers. Jack in his Hyperion sweater and Tim in a tight fitting tee.

There was something else left and just like before Lawrence thought he deserved to have it: this moment was his.

“Remove it,” Lawrence commanded and tapped his finger on one of the clasps.

The glint in Jack's eye made him look like a man ready to burn a planet to the ground. His breathing was a low rumble, and the whites of his teeth flashed as he snarled. Lawrence knew what he was asking: mask was a defence mechanism and if Jack showed his face now, his intentions would be clear.

A painfully long moment passed, and Lawrence was sure Jack was going to digitise a gun and shoot him in the gut. To his relief, Jack slowly bowed his head and with a few precise flicks, the mask was lowered an inch from his face, but he didn’t let it fall.

Lawrence raised his slashed hand, blood trailing  down the length of his arm as he positioned it up right. He placed it against Jack’s mask and gingerly pulled it away from the man’s face.

For the first time since Jack was scared with the mark of the Vault and without the Eridium trances turning him mad, Lawrence was able to see the man under the mask. His left eye was a ghostly pale green, sclera forever bloodied and damaged, while his right eye remained a vivid blue. Both were glaring back at him relentlessly.

Lawrence placed the mask delicately onto the bench behind them, raising his blood-soaked hand again and hooking it under his own jaw. Without hesitation Lawrence flicked it off, opting to toss his mask aside and briefly watched it skim against the sugar, glass and alcohol stained floor.

"Perfect," Lawrence whispered, as he cupped Jack’s chin, closed his eyes and brought them together.

The kiss he planted on Jack’s lips was softer this time. No longer was he fighting against the mask to reach him. Jack's grip became gentler, and Lawrence followed suit, exploring his back, kissing down his neck. Making sure not to miss a spot.

However, it did not take long for them both to become insistent once again and return to the heavy friction in their movements.

Lust, as well as solitude, was a powerful motivator.

He fumbled with Jack’s zipper, and quickly concluded that kissing and coordination were not his strong suits. Jack replied with a deep vibrating chuckle as Lawrence cursed the damn zip.

Jack’s amusement did not last, and the chuckle was quickly replaced with a throaty moan when Lawrence finally got his hands on his mark. Smothering his neck with soft kisses Lawrence held Jack’s cock in his palm and gradually traced his thumb up and down. The response he got was immeasurable.

Jack took a deep inhale through his teeth, buried his face into Lawrence's neck and slowly grinded into him.

“Fuck,” was all Jack could say as Lawrence slowly worked him up and down in his hand. “Why the hell, fuck..." Jack shuddered as Lawrence ran his thumb over the head, smearing pre-cum everywhere. "Why... did I have to be so goddam patient with you?” Jack was more heavy panting than words now.

He snagged Lawrence by the chin, so that their bi-colour eyes met. Those same eyes once cut away at him, broke him down to nothing. Now Lawrence possessed the same brutal scrutiny Jack wielded and he did not shift his gaze away, looking at the other man brashly.

"Do you know what you're doing Timmy?"

“It’s a cock, same as mine, I’m sure I can figure it out, it's not-”

Lawrence was cut off as Jack moved his hand to palm across Lawrence pants. Now it was his turn to make an embarrassingly loud noise.

“Goddammit,” Lawrence breathed out into the recess of Jack's neck. It had been too long.

Jack made a pleased sound as Lawrence began to press into him, his hands on Jack losing their coordination.

“I've waited for you for so-damn-long.” Jack had unbuckled Lawrence's belt, and with a few practised motions, he had Lawrence pants and underwear lowered to his thighs and cock out. “You’re finally here, just as I knew you would be.”

“Ja-Jack” Lawrence whined and thrust himself into Jack's waiting hand.

It had been too long, way too long since someone had touched him like that. Touched him _at all_. Lawrence pleaded he could last long enough, but with how determined Jack’s hands were he was not sure that was going to be possible. He felt he could come just from fucking into Jack's palm.

He had to pace this. Lawrence pulled back to carefully eye Jack. Glass glinted in the low light and blood had trickled down his face from where the mask had not protected him.

_Screw it._

He started to grind into Jack once more, whining and begging like a fucking dog to his master as Jack jerked him off.

"Jack, please," he nipped at Jack's neck, begging into his flesh. "Please, let me. I need - "

All acts of dominance and will to be on top were gone, he had to get off, and he needed it yesterday. Jack barely had to do any of the work, Lawrence was driving himself up and down into his hand, grinding and pleading for more.

"Dammit, Jack... Please, _please let me_ ," Lawrence whined one last time.

"Fine."

"Fuck," he chewed his lip and rutted like a fucking dog into Jack's waiting hand spilling cum between them both. He came so hard his head span, his breathing hitched and he felt like he could faint from it all. With heavy pants and words of thanks, he fell into Jack's arms.

Jack made a disgusted sound as he flicked out his hand, before wiping it on the dishcloth. Still panting Lawrence threw himself to his knees, once wasn't enough, and he had plenty of tricks to show off. He levelled himself with Jack’s erection, the doctors had it spot on, there wasn't a hair difference between them. Lawrence let his lips trail over the tip of Jack's leaking cock before the other man's hands curled in his hair and held him tight.

“Bedroom now,” Jack breathed out, and Lawrence moaned from the interruption.

"Come on, kitten."

Lawrence nodded in reply, a wicked grin on his face as he slowly dragged his mouth off and away from Jack’s cock, eliciting a strangled gasp from the other man.

“My room of yours?” he added with a sly smile, flicking his tongue over his lips.

“Tim, baby for all I care I could fuck you on the floor, pick a damn door.”

Lawrence laughed at that and lead Jack to his room.

* * *

No one but Handsome Jack knew what real power was.

It was not running a trillion dollar company or having thousands of employees at your mercy. Nor was it murdering your dipshit boss or opening up two Vaults to bear all their riches.

No, none of those things compared to _this_.

Having Timothy on top of him, letting Jack fuck him inside and out, all the while moaning like the whore Jack always knew his double was.

This and this only was the _true_ power.

Hearing his own voice begging for more. To take Timothy and screw him was like nothing Jack could have ever imagined. Gazing up at his own dishevelled face as it rocked back and forth on his own cock. God, just listening to Timothy hiss and how his breathing hitched when Jack would jolt his hips up to meet up with him.

Fuck, nothing could compare and nothing ever would.

Power was taking the meek and executing them in your own image. Power was waiting until you had your claws in so deep they could never leave you.

Power.

Was.

_This._

When they had thrown the door down to Timothy’s room, his double had put up a fight, insistent he was not going to let Jack fuck him like one of his whores. It was cute, so Jack obliged. Though Jack regrettably admitted he did not have much of a choice. Timothy had lifted him up and held him against the wall before tossing him on the bed. Jack was used to some rough play but Nisha hardly had the strength to perform half the things Timothy was doing to him.

In the end, the waiting game had been worth it. Timothy rounded on him exactly how he expected, begged him to fuck him, yelled his name so loud he needed not put him on speaker, he was sure all of Helios could hear him.

Jack made sure to take his time with his Timmy, ease him into it. All of Timothy's begging and want did not prepare the double for when Jack had entered him. He bucked and hissed, nearly cried too. The disappointment at the amateur display was quickly pushed aside the moment Timothy found his rhythm. Jack had been patient, goddammit and it had been worth it.

As Timothy began hastening his pace, Jack moaned something fierce, hands sliding down the other man’s muscular back and leaving faint scratches.

"I need to see you better, I need-" Jack's feverish pleads were cut off as Timothy pulled himself against him. "Fuck, Timmy, you done this before, kitten?"

Timothy only buried his head in the groove of Jack's neck, his breath panting out each word against his throat.

"Say it, again," Timothy whispered, "say my name, Jack, say it. I need it, _say it_..."

“Oh Tim, you little-”

His double threw his weight into him, causing Jack’s own breath to hitch and choke out.

“Timmy, you be good for me, and I'll call you whatever you damn want," and Jack’s words were the honest truth.

He drew a wicked grin. If only Jack had known this was all it took to get his precious double to bend for him, he would have whispered 'Timmy' into his ear years ago. But then Timothy would not be who he was; he would not be Handsome Jack.

If his double wanted to be the real Jack he needed to go through the good _and_ the bad. Timothy needed to suffer what Jack had suffered, he needed to know what it was like to wear the mask, to be the enemy of every slithering creature on the planet below them. He needed to learn what it took for Handsome Jack to get where he was and Timothy had finally mastered that tonight; hell, it made Jack so proud.

Jack shoved his elbows back into the mattress and pulled himself up and out from under Timothy. The startled look on his double face was only momentarily, as his lips were quickly pressed together in a pout whining at the loss of Jack’s cock and his bliss. He lapped up the sight in front of him, Timothy on his hands and knees, his stomach nothing but pure muscle, hair shamelessly sprawled across his sweat covered face and his lips still red and flushed from sucking him off hour earlier.

“Come here, kitten.”

Jack enjoyed the show, watching as Timothy climbed his way back up, kissing every inch of Jack’s navel, chest, neck and jaw. Before he could reach Jack's own lips, he hooked an arm around Timothy and swung him onto his back.

Fuck, it was even better like this.

Timothy arched his back and ran his hands down Jack's front, his eyelids fluttering back in pure ecstasy and Jack smothered Timothy’s mouth with his own. Jack shamelessly grinded into him, his chest tight at the thought having his precious double like this for the rest of his life. In his bed, by his side.

“Ah... Fuck!” Timothy thrust his head back into the pillow, biting his lip as Jack entered him once again.

Jack maintained the same steady pace his double had before, rocking back into him. Part of Jack wanted to up the antics, move onto something more brutal, but he could not get enough of Timothy’s mouth. He needed to hear him say his name over and over. Jack pulled his lips away only to fix them onto Timothy’s throat, burying his teeth into the flesh. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough Timothy shuddered underneath him.

"Oh, Timmy, if only you could see yourself. Well you sorta can, but you know, like this, you look so perfect, you-" Jack cut his own words off with a rasped chuckle. "I simply can't keep this up. Not with you being so sweet."

“Jack,” the sound whining from Timothy was drug he needed more of. His hand shot forward and gripped both sides of Jack’s hips.

"Shut up, and fuck me, dammit." He thrust forward, pulling all of Jack inside of him.  

"Fucking hell!" Jack choked out and he swore he saw spots swimming in front of his eyes as Timothy’s muscles contracted around his cock.

Jack snapped a hand from his waist and held Tim's wrist high above his head, the other was pressed into the dip of Timothy’s hip, his fingers gripping into the flesh. The blood from the gash had melded into his double's hair, some of it even smeared across his cheekbones.

Blood was more Nisha’s thing but Jack could not deny his double looked just as good in red.

"You kept me waiting for- too- damn- long," Jack punctuated every word with another thrust against the mirrored flesh underneath him. Tim only replied with a cry of his own name. “I’m not a very patient man, Timmy, what am I going to do with you?”

“Jack, pl-please, fuck!”

Dammit, every time he heard it from Timothy’s wet lips was a moment too pure, too _perfect_. He needed to last longer but Jack had been telling the truth: he could not keep this up. Not with Timothy sprawled under him and not when he all but sobbed Jack's name.

"God - fucking - dammit," Jack moaned as he tried to control the heat surging within him.

Pure lust and want made his mind short circuit, not even Nisha had set him off in this way. He was coming before his double was, he drove all of his weight into Timothy, his body shaking as it responded to the incredible release.

In the silent response Timothy buckled under him, his hips interlocked with Jack’s as he held Timothy’s cock in his hand, jerking him off to meet his own climax.

He collapsed on top of the double, absolutely fucking wrecked.

Still panting, he lightly stroked Timothy’s hair and nuzzled his double’s cheek with his nose, whispering in his ear promises of more. Timothy only hummed in reply as he lazily ran his hand down Jack’s spine, before stealing a quick grab of his ass.

They just lay there, too tired and content to move. There was too much sweat, blood and cum between them to lay comfortably and so Jack was not surprised when Timothy mumbled for him to get off.

Jack rolled onto his side with a dramatic huff.

He checked his wrist watch and cursed; it was early into the next cycle and he was not anywhere nearly done with his double. He quickly sent a message to Meg and asked her to cancel everything before 1pm. After some thought he changed it to 3pm. He was inching close to his forties and needed longer to recover.

Timothy was already gone, humming softly to himself as he entered the ensuite and started the shower. Jack watched that perfect toned back and ass walk away, every part of his double was perfection; from the grey in his hair, to the dip of his hips.

When Angel presented him with the first array of candidates, Jack had independently chosen the first thing that caught his eye. He could not recall his name, but he could remember the man was built like a bull, mercenary background and kill count to make even the bravest sweat their collars. But Angel had swayed him off, something about the wrong brain archetype, or whatever.

Then there was some apparent code genius, also a good choice and also a lawyer who honestly did not need a lot of work. He could have been Jack's brother. And finally there was Timothy Lawrence.

Lawrence was not a candidate his daughter found. Oh no, Jack uncovered _that_ gem himself. The kid had managed to hack his credentials into the Eden Elites databases, lie through his teeth through Hyperion interviews and hacked every check along the way which would have exposed him as a fraud.

Until Jack found him out.

He needed to meet this little weasel who thought he could sneak his way under Jack’s nose and show him the error of his stupid ways. But when he set eyes on Timothy Lawrence, he knew he found his candidate.

Under the glasses, the freckles and the annoying stammering was something for Jack to nurture and shape. Timothy did not even know it yet but he was already Jack in the making. A lonely kid with something to prove.

Jack had tuned out as he mused about their early beginnings, so long ago it was. The feeling of drying bodily fluids was unpleasant and he stood up, making his way to the shower. Jack opened the door, blinked blearily as a wave of steam swept up, and stepped into the shower.

“Oh, hey,” Timothy gave Jack one of his dopey smiles, gentle and genuine. It pulled at the scar on his face and it did not do anything to improve his features. Jack hated he had to do that. That he had to ruin his beautiful face once more just to teach Timmy a valuable lesson. But all of those sacrifices led to today and it was _all_ worth it, Jack took consolation in that.

 _Damn_ , it had irritated him at first, to see such a pitiful expression being put on _his_ _face_. Now it was endearing, because Timothy only ever used that expression around him. Outside the walls of their apartment he was all Jack, through and through. He proved that tonight.

Timothy’s hair stuck to his face, long and flopped to the side. The water ran heavy down him and steam billowed out, it was a beautiful sight. Jack closed the door behind him and pushed his hair back off his face. He stepped under the shower and let the perfectly controlled water rush over him.

Jack opened his eyes when he felt Timothy press against him, his back leaning into Jack’s chest. He let his hands run down Timothy’s front, exploring how deep and pronounced his hips and abdomen were. It was like a marble sculpture. Timothy spun around and cupped Jack's face to plant a sweet and tender kiss to his lips. It was cute how his double span from dominating to endearing in a heartbeat. Jack lapped up both.

Timothy let out a long pleased sound as Jack slid his hands up his thigh, the rest of Timothy jerked into him.

Jack knew he had him, like a beast in a trap. Timothy was not going anywhere, not when he was making noises like that.

It was not long until he was grinding up against Jack in the shower, the process of cleaning long forgotten.  

His double deserved a reward, Jack wagered. He had been so well behaved recently. Jack continued to tease him, gripping that perfect ass, running tips of his fingers against Timothy’s skin, before he finally wrapped his hands around his cock and jerked him off in the shower. Soon Timothy, to none of his shame, was cumming again, bucking into him with nails digging into Jack’s chest.

He cried his name as Jack continued to play with him long after he had orgasmed. Timothy shuddered, and swatted Jack’s hand away. Chuckling fondly as Jack teasingly held him. They stood there in the shower and surprisingly, Jack enjoyed the company and the silence. Sex for Jack usually meant someone was getting kicked out of bed so he could enjoy the rest of his night; alone. Yet, Jack found himself not wanting to let Timothy go, though eventually his double squirmed out of his arms and turned around so his back was once again facing Jack.

The white thin lines from Jack’s past had been identically grafted down Timothy’s spine. Granny’s buzz axe performed wonders when it came destroying Jack’s back and childhood.

He slowly traced the scars down Timothy’s back, it was odd to see them so exposed. Jack had spent a lifetime hiding them, despising and ashamed to be a victim: it sickened him that he allowed himself to be beaten by that wretched woman. He must have dug his nails in too hard, as Timothy suddenly pulled away.

“Jack?” he turned around, the water still pushing his hair down into a flat mess. And it was freaking adorable.

“Nothing, kitten,” and Jack took him in his arms again and kissed him against the shower wall.

They finished showering, properly and not long after that Timothy was collapsed on Jack’s own bed, now that the sheets were an utter mess in the spare one. Jack’s own perfect body was lying beside him, how many people in the world could witness or even have such a thing?

Timothy was almost out, his chest raised slowly back and forth and Jack could not look away. Everything was flawless except, Jack's eyes closed on the scar above Timothy’s left collarbone; that mark. His hands trailed over the scar. He'd nearly lost Timothy that day, something in the bullet had stopped the wound from closing, it kept stretching him open and without the Eridium he would never have made it.

"You never answered my question before," Jack asked and discovered his tone was far gentler than he intended.

Tim hummed, stirring to Jack's voice.

"Was that your first time?"

Tim snorted, his eyes wincing open at his own laughter before he replied, "With a guy? Sorta." He rolled over closer, "And you? Do you always talk this much in bed? And during sex?"

Jack ignored him as he opened up the med-box and sought out the healing patches for their slashed hands.

"Never thought to send a guy my way before?" Timothy had his eyes closed again, yet his brow was raised with a wolfish grin. "You just kept sending me women, after women, after-"

"I thought that's what you wanted," Jack's tone returned to its usual sharpness.

Timothy worried his lip. "Nah. Not always."

Jack administered the healing-patch to his hand before he took a mouthful of codeine and washed it down with some scotch.

"Interesting."

Tim's eyes were still closed, head buried in the pillows unable to see the devilish grin creeping across Jack's features. His hand traced over Timothy’s jaw, pulling his chin up.

"Did that make you sad? All those women and no Handsome Jack to set you right? You’ve been thinking about me for a while, haven’t you, sweet kitten?" Jack closed in on his double, hands pressed on either side of Timothy, legs straddled over him once again.

“Yeah, right.”

Tim huffed out a groan and pushed against Jack's chest, eyes still refusing to open to meet his.

"Sleep time," he mumbled.

Jack noted the scar contorted his face when he smiled.

Timothy’s breathing began to slow, yet it was not perfectly steady, Jack knew he was still drifting off. He reached for Timothy’s hand, turning it over he applied the same healing-patch to it. Hopefully, they both had theirs implemented in time to not leave a scar, if not? At least it would match.

Timothy stirred as Jack smooth out the bubbles under the artificial skin. He mumbled something before he returned to burying his face in the pillows.

Jack knew he was never going to let him go, never would he get another one like him. Jack could make a thousand doubles and not one of them would make him feel what he felt now.

Pride. Want. And, above all, patience for his Timothy.

"Will you ever leave me, Timmy?" Jack leaned forward and whispered into his double’s ear. His words, soft, far softer than he even used with Nisha.

"No, never," Timothy mumbled back before he turned his head and nuzzled into Jack. His bandaged hand reached for him and fell against his waist.

Jack settled down beside him, sleep would claim his swiftly. Knowing what he knew now, that Timothy was his, he could finally get some fucking rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are gone Timothy Lawrence. You're dancing with the devil now. 
> 
> So the slow burn is finally over, how was the ride? lol sorry to take Tim from you, he's all Handsome Jack now. 
> 
> **Next Update:** Crake and Tim talk about the future.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	32. Primary Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up! check out this awesome Fanart done by the lovely [Zopadthekat](https://zopadthekat.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! If you get a chance please check out the rest of her art :D [You can reblog and like the post here!](https://zopadthekat.tumblr.com/post/177318905055/wolf-among-wolves-a-gif-inspired-by)
> 
> * * *
> 
> * * *

"I need a place where moonshots can't hit me, think you can find me somewhere?" Lawrence shouted over the roar of the engine.

Crake must have heard the request, as a moment later Lawrence's echo flashed once before it displayed a new waypoint on the screen. Twelve kilometres southeast, behind the shade of a mountain; moonshots would be blocked out, but Helios was still in range.

"Cheers, buddy."

Lawrence upped the gears as he moved onto a more worn path. The road ahead become smoother as they pushed on out of the Dust. He'd not ridden a motorcycle in years, an unnecessary risk Jack had claimed, and so Nisha, and he sat side by side in a four-wheeler when raiding.

He missed riding, and Pandora was perfect for it. The sun, the light wind and the dry landscape made long distances slightly more bearable.

He hoped Janey would forgive him for snatching the bike. She had yelled at him when she caught him lifting up the garage door with bike at his side.

'You can't leave! Not after everything!'

Her words rang clearly in his mind, and Lawrence did his best to forget. Athena would keep Angel safe and in time she'd realise he was nothing but a bitter reminder of her father and a dark shadow in her life.

She had a future waiting for her, safe and far away. And his? His belonged with Jack.... _as_ Jack.

When Lawrence reached the waypoint, he sought out flatter ground between some boulders, killed the engine and stored the bike out of sight.

Crake pixelated to his side the moment the engine stopped. He stood arms crossed, head tilted to the side, watching Lawrence intently as he dumped his backpack to the ground.

"What are we doing here, Tim?"

"Going home."

Crake's feet stirred impatiently against the red and dark earth, though he could not disturb it.

" _That_ up there isn't a home," his voice was a low growl.

"What do you know about it?" Lawrence spat back, "all you've said this fucking time is that I should go back."

"For a cure. Not to him. _Never_ to him."

"Bullshit."

"Going back to him will only-"

"Your advice is very fucking noted. Make the damn call."

Crake turned away from him.

“Call Jack.”

"Do it yourself," Crake shrugged and gave him a bored stare before pixelating back into the watch. Yet not a moment had passed before he reappeared looking lost and for a moment Lawrence thought Crake was going to say something before he pixelated away to the furthest boulder.

Lawrence ignored the magenta AI, gruffed out a curse and sought Jack's frequency on his echo. Even though he had been waiting for this moment ever since he fled, Lawrence found himself hesitating to make the call.

Jack would not be pleased. He had disobeyed, killed Nisha, fled the bunker, had not checked in and got himself caught.

Even after he thought he talked his way out of Nisha's death, Jack had still snapped and proceeded to break his back and fill him with Eridium again.

Lawrence stared at Jack's frequency and wished Crake had just made the damn call for him and stopped acting like a sour child. In an attempt to push off the inevitable Lawrence re-checked his logs and messages before resigning he had to do it himself.

For all Jack knew, he was dead.

Lawrence ignored the trembling in his fingers and the burning in his chest as he swiped to activate the call. The connection was made and Lawrence chewed the corner of his lip and paced around the boulder impatiently as he waited.

Jack didn't answer.

Lawrence tried again and when that failed, he typed a message.

[Tim]: 'We need to talk. Answer your damn echo.'

Crake said nothing and did not return to his side until Lawrence started to make camp.

"He didn't pick up," Lawrence grunted, and he kept his expression flat to hide away his relief.

Crake had never been the one to linger outside the watch. Mostly he'd do a perimeter check, report back and disappeared, waiting and ready to attack if a threat appeared. Now, he glowered around the campfire and only returned to the watch to recharge and immediately come back out.

Lawrence could only reason it was the absence of his brother. Crake could have left if he wanted, nothing bound the AI to him any more, and still, he chose to stay. The choice was his to live with.

They said nothing for a third of the cycle. It wasn't until Lawrence was struggling to open a can of beans did Crake finally speak up.

"You going to eat?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Yeah, these frickin cold beans." Lawrence drove his hunting blade into the top of the can that he'd stolen from Janey.

"There is still light for the rest of the cycle, we could go hunting?"

Lawrence put the can down. His hand curled over the blade, the one Jack had given him years ago, a gift for their birthdays. He tilted the blade, so it caught the setting sun and reflected it against a nearby rock. He traced the path of a baby racoon-ant with the reflected light, seeing if he could burn it away.

"Tim?"

"Why the hell does everyone call me that now."

"Because it's your name," Crake sighed, though he didn't need to.

Since Hollowpoint, everything about the magenta digistruct was different, more human in nature than before. Lawrence didn't know how he felt about it.

"Get up." Crake pixelated over, his red frame stood between his ray of light and the path of the racoon-ant. "Let's move."

"Not in the mood," Lawrence grumbled bitterly.

His body ached, everything fucking hurt or trembled.

"Last time I tried to shoot I lost my night vision lens, because of the damn tremors remember?"

"We can work around that."

When Lawrence made no move to get up Crake stormed over.

"Get up, and drop the damn Handsome Jack act. You do not need to build up walls around me."

"I'm not. I don't-"

Crake spoke over him, "Please Lawrence, you may not always see it, but you're still wearing that mask one way or another."

Lawrence curled his hands and made to move, he wasn't going to take this from Crake or from anyone, but when the digistruct's tone softened Lawrence found the anger subsided.

"Come on, let's shoot some stuff. It always helps."

Lawrence sighed and when he finally agreed Crake looked pleased.

* * *

Tim rolled out his mat, took off his jacket and set the sniper in place. His shoulders moved back as he rested on his stomach, his arms were toned, though no longer smooth. The scars from Tania's work ran like streams of white down the back of his tanned forearms. Crake said nothing, but his mind ran every damn painful procedure he was going to inflict on that woman when he had the chance.

He'd make it so.

"There's nothing but spider ants to shoot," Tim gruffed.

Crake sidelined his thoughts of murder and torture for later.

"This is pointless," Tim complained again.

"I'll laser something for you to aim at."

Tim was making it remarkably complicated for Crake to keep his calm disposition. There were only a handful of people in the world he offered such perseverance too, and all but one of them were back in Hollow Point.

"Fine, let's do this."

Crake pressed his palm forward and shot a beam of light onto a boulder, precisely 135.44 metres away. He burned in a crude drawing of what he thought was a pretty good face, in his mind, it was Jack's face.

"Alright, aim for the head," he turned over to Tim.

The noise Tim made was vexing on Crake's ears, though his patience held. Tim lowered his eye down and pressed his weight into the sniper and Crake watched attentively as Tim took aim.

He analysed every movement, how his finger slowly stroked the trigger and the calm expression on his face. There was a beautiful predatory grace in how Tim hunted his targets and it amused Crake thinking that he went against Jack’s wishes of using the wrist lasers and picked out something that turned out to be his greatest strength.

Though _this_ particular sniper had been given to him by Jack. Crake's eyes narrowed as he glared at the engraved bow and signature on the side; that man contaminated _everything_.

The gun fired, the recoil hit Tim, followed by a short grunt.

"I fucking missed," he cried out before Crake could examine the shot.

"Well line it up and take the shot again," annoyance was seeping into his words.

Tim turned to glare over his shoulder. His mouth opened and a curse was likely to leave. Crake, however, got his words out faster.

"I'm watching, so keep shooting and I can examine the tremors."

Tim shut his mouth and turned back to his sniper.

Crake had never missed his brother before, he never had a reason too. Nyx was always by his side, forever in their digital 'home', as messy as he kept it. It was with Tim's persistence to be bitter, and childish that Crake wished for his brother's presence. Anything to help distract Tim from the problems crawling through his mind.

Nyx always knew what to say, knew what to do, to distract Tim from Jack.

Tim was ready to take the second shot, and Crake saw the abnormal muscle contraction a second before the body registered it; Tim's fingers spasmed, and the rifle tilted three degrees downwards, wasting the shot into a cactus and scaring away nearby spider ants. Tim started swearing and when he was finally done, he turned back to Crake.

“Fucking tell me you got it.”

“I did,” Crake answered and pointed to Tim's arm, “did you feel anything?”

“No,” Tim sighed and pulled himself up from the rifle. His left-hand started rubbing his right palm and Crake noticed how Tim traced the scar on his palm up and over again.

Another mark for Jack, Crake bitterly thought.

Tim snapped his palm shut, desperately trying to calm down the tremors in his fingers.

“There are no warning signs. I’m fucked. I can't shoot.”

“No, I saw it coming. All you have to do is have one of us around." Crake paused realising Nyx wasn't here anymore, before continuing. "Well, have _me_ around. A signal word to adjust your aim. The tilt was three degrees downwards, so just reverse that. Again.”

“Crake, I'm don- ”

“Tim, do it again.”

“You’re worse than Jack,” Tim grumbled and picked up the rifle once more, setting down on the ground and taking aim.

“Shut it and take the bloody shot," Crake barked, unamused by the comparison. He outstretched his hand, letting a small light source erupt from his fingers and form a target on the nearby cliff.

Like a stubborn child, Tim grumbled something inaudible that may or may not have been ‘red asshole’ and concentrated on the target. Then there was that skin twitch Crake had spotted before.

“Now,” he commanded curtly. “Barrel upwards.”

Tim tilted the gun as instructed and Crake could see in his friend’s face that he felt the cramp ripple down and through his shoulder. The pain made Tim's fingers convulse and squeeze the trigger as the shot echoed in the still air.

“Not bad,” Crake narrowed his eyes watching the distant target. “Not a headshot but it’ll do."

Lawrence nodded, a smile twitched on his lips.

Crake glowed, "Attaboy.”

He slapped Tim right between the shoulder blades and the next moment he saw an almost invisible huddle in Tim's posture. The realisation came too late; those words and a provocative slap was Jack’s favourite way of cheering on people.

Crake hissed like an angry rakk and pixelated away behind the nearby ridge. Tim called out, but he ignored him. Livid with himself, Crake swore off those words from ever leaving his mouth again and cursed his actions once more.

He could not understand why Tim's reaction triggered him like that

The flinch was untraceable for a human eye so small it was, but it hurt him that Tim shivered at his 'touch'.

It was because of Jack. It was _always_ because of Jack.

Unlike Nyx, Crake kept all his pre-unshackling memories organised. His brother had happily buried all the unpleasant ones, but Crake thought it to be immature and counterproductive. There were many files in there he now found revolting; the destruction of the Felicity AI, the New Haven massacre… But they were nothing compared to the memories he had stored of Tim.

'Attaboy.’

He had multiple recordings where Jack had called Tim that, and one of the worst involved a knife in Tim's neck. It was the same recording Crake had offered to show Tim and Nyx on the balcony in Hollow Point. The memory was vile, Jack had Tim crying and begging on the ground and Crake did nothing but watch it happen.

'Attaboy,' Jack laughed, Tim begged, and Crake and Nyx watched.

Crake knew he shouldn't. Rewatching old files did not help, it did not change the past, but he needed to see it and remember why he was letting Tim go back to Helios.

Swiping at his watch, a funny habit he picked up from observing Tim in an act to be less ostracising and alien, Crake called up a file named ‘C8_34aC_3075.’

‘Warning! User: Timothy Lawrence Condition: critical,’ the message ran through his mind, and the next moment he was watching the recording through his past self's eyes.

Jack had Tim straddled on the kitchen floor, his hands around his raw throat, already purple and green from bruising and hours of abuse. The reason for Nyx and Crake's automatic summoning was a shattered voice modulator, the one in Tim's throat.

Tim was drowning in his own blood, had a concussion and was definitely at risk of more broken bones if Jack did not stop his assault. All Tim could do was wheeze blood and beg Nyx and Crake for help.

No matter how much Crake willed his past self to intervene, to call out to Tim he could not. Back then, their primary protocol was to protect the wearer of the watch however Jack was a top priority persona, that when in range, would override the standard protocol.

Lawrence cried again, and Crake's past-self did nothing.

Crake swore he would never let this happen again. The broken look on Tim's face, how blood wept from the corners of his mouth would forever be imprinted in his memories.

It had never gotten this bad before.

Jack's methods were rarely so violent. Most of the times his tactics were designed to shield Tim from everyone and the world, threaten him with an AI and build him back up with praise and intimacy.

But Jack wasn't himself that day, something else, something far more sinister had possessed his body. When Jack asked Tim if he wanted it all to end, Tim slowly nodded and accepted his fate and Jack beamed and said 'Attaboy,' before driving a knife into his neck.

Crake remembered what happened next: his past self could not intervene but found a loophole by calling someone who could; Nisha.

'Attaboy,' the words continued to run through Crake's mind. Furiously he ceased the recording and was brought back into the real world once again. He was right, watching the past did nothing to help his current situation but it did cement his choices.

Crake only needed to stand by Tim long enough to get back to Helios and do what he should have done years ago; kill Handsome Jack.

He should have acted the moment his AI laws were taken away. It was the next logical step to remove the source of misery from the proximity of his friend. But Crake got too selfish, he had been too blind with rage over Tim’s decision to see clearly. Another wretched 'gift' from having the laws removed; emotions.

Crake moved even further away and stood as far as the watch permitted him to go. He did not want to return to the watch because the device was empty; there was no Nyx for him to talk to.

“Hey, so sniper practice is over or what?” Tim's voice called from downhill.

Crake’s eyes went wide. He got so preoccupied with his own problems he missed Tim's approach. He was standing only a few metres away and leaning on his rifle, breathing heavily. It was unlike Crake to be sneaked up on, he should have noticed the watch's approach.

Ashamed and aggravated by the distraction by his own thoughts and feelings he pursed his lips together and threw head backwards in a pitiful attempt to look cool.

"It's over," Crake grounded. Even AI's have limited patience.

Tim fell silent, his thumb running over the crude carving of a little bow.

Crake utterly hated that weapon. He counted back from five, retracted everything he had ready to yell at Tim and resigned they should hunt once more. Anything to keep him off sulking or thinking about Jack.

"Fine, I saw some movement on that ridge. See if there is anything worth the bullet."

Crake pointed ahead, and Tim silently obeyed. There were no snarky remarks and grumbling this time. Tim swiftly got to work and laid down once again.

"Um, Crake,"

"What," he snapped. If he had to hear one more whine from Lawrence he would shock him through the watch.

"Can't shoot it, don't think Angel would appreciate it much." Tim's tone was light, and a sly grin slid down his face as he sat back up.

Crake looked ahead and magnified his vision.

A skag, no, Meatface was burying a hole in the dirt under a cactus of the Electi-Cacti variety. Her large paws got too close, and the stupid thing electrocuted herself. With a series of yelps, it backed away snarling at its new prickly green 'enemy'.

Tim raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply.

The beast's head picked up and its venus-fly-trap mouth arched open, in what Crake could only assume was recognition as it started to bounce up the hillside.

"Meatface!" Tim yelled as the skag eagerly approached.

"What are you doing here girl?" Tim asked thoughtfully as he patted the skag. Meanwhile, the beast was more interested in trying to tear off Tim's boot as she was licking and digging on it fanatically.

"Did Angel send her after us?"

"Dunno. I doubt it." Tim mumbled and grew quiet at the mention of Angel. He shifted uncomfortably and stroked the ridges on skag’s back.

Crake knew better than to probe him again about their abrupt departure. The one thing Tim loved more than that stupid sniper and his substance abuse was building up walls around himself. Speaking of Angel was a sure way to secure another layer of defense around him.

Crake eyed his friend carefully as he silently patted the beast before slowly tracking back to camp.

* * *

Lawrence's hands were painted red as his hunting knife ran down the spine of the dead skag. Meatface watched with wide-eyed anticipation, her colossal tongue hanging out of her trap of a mouth waiting for the scraps.

"Here you go, you frickin cannibal," Lawrence tossed a spiny piece of flesh, and the beast swallowed it down whole.

It took the entire later third of the cycle to claim a kill, but with Crake's patience and encouragement, Lawrence shot and killed an alpha Skag. A perfect hit under its front shoulder directly to the heart. At least Meatface had less local competition now, and they would both have full bellies for the days to come.

Nisha had shown him how to dry the meat out and make jerky. Lawrence stood up, reached for the highest cactus branch and hooked a piece of meat onto one of the large spikes, ever so careful not to electrocute himself in the process.

"Stay," he grounded to Meatface who only looked up pleadingly at the hanging meat. "You'll get your share in a-"

Lawrence paused and fumbled at his waist; his echo was calling. He pried the device off his belt and held it in front of him.

Jack’s ID and his frequency were flashing impatiently on the screen.

"Don’t answer that!" Crake jumped up from the rock he was sitting on and blasted forth. Magenta consumed Lawrence's vision and he snapped the echo away despite the fact Crake could do nothing to pry it from his grasp.

"Patch him in," Lawrence barked. He did not know if it would still work without Nyx's code, but the look on Crake's face was enough to discern the answer was 'yes.'

"No. Free will an all," Crake drawled back, head tilted mockingly to the side and hands on hips.

"Godammit!" Lawrence manually accessed the watch's code, he linked it to his echo and made the connection.

Cyan pixels burst from his wrist, and a moment later Handsome Jack stood in front of them. Arms crossed, stance wide as he glared back with two cyan coloured eyes at Lawrence.

None of Lawrence's preparation readied him for what he saw next. It was not the Jack he left behind and not the Jack he remembered.

 _This_ Jack looked like an impostor; a poor copy of himself forced awake and left to walk the halls of Helios for weeks on end.

His hair was messier than usual, rogue streaks falling on his forehead. Even with the mask the bloodshot eyes were noticeable and he had obviously lost weight. Jack’s collarbones were more pronounced, peeking over the yellow sweater and cheekbones were sharper than ever.

The words Lawrence had practised did not spill forth. All he could do was whisper his name.

"Jack."

The other man’s face had softened momentarily in response to the weak whisper that left Lawrence’s mouth.

"Tim."

"What - What happened? Jack are you-"

"Drop it, Timmy, it's good to see you're alive. Kinda wish you were still naked though, don’t get enough of that nowadays."

Lawrence mentally rolled his eyes at the remark. Despite the light tone it seemed Jack's humour was not a correct reflection of his mood. His voice dropped, yielding no warmth it once had when they last spoke to each other.

"By the way, how’s your vacation going? Told anyone else all our corporate secrets yet? Or are you _finally_ done whoring around Pandora?” Jack inspected his nails as he raised his hands in front of himself, deliberately exercising every effort not to make eye contact.

Lawrence could feel the waves of static as Crake was positively fuming with rage, yet the magenta digistruct did not say a word. Speaking out of turn would mean outing himself as an AI with a free will and Lawrence was sure it was taking all of his control to stay silent on the matter.

"Well, Timmy? Gonna tell me where you've been, pumpkin?"

"Stop this. I don’t care for your patronizing bullshit," Lawrence growled back. Hostility was already clinging to his words.

This was not the reunion he had hoped for.

Jack's eyes were dowcast as he busied himself with something that must have been on his desk on Helios. He even spoke to someone in the background and after waving them away he _still_ did not look Lawrence in the eye.

Lawrence felt the surge of tremors ripple down his arm as his hand spasmed and in the corner of his eye he saw Crake edge closer to his side. In the end it was not just Tania, Jack was just as accountable for the poisons and bullets he had taken over the years.

Collapsed lungs, sniper scars, broken bones, kidnappings, assassination attempts, stabbings, beatings and torture. He had endured it _all_ , he stayed by Jack and protected him from the worst of it. He deserved better than being ignored and dismissed for the mistakes he made. Jack needed him and by the looks of it now more than ever.

Trying to calm himself down and breathing over gritted teeth, Lawrence growled out the question he came all this way for.

“The boturalin treatment, where are you at?”

Jack should have been working on it like he said he would. That is why Lawrence was stuck in the fucking bunker with only Angel to keep him company. Jack _promised_ him and if there was one thing his other half was good at, it was keeping promises, he always boasted as much.

But when Jack continued to ignore him, Lawrence found himself ready to latch onto the other man’s throat. Everything he did was to keep Jack safe and all he fucking asked in return was a name and his consideration. But the neglect and flippancy in Jack’s attitude and the way he turned away momentarily to say something to someone about a contract had tipped the scales and with an angry sob Lawrence dug his nails into his palms, breaking the skin.

“JACK!” He exploded back at his other half, pulling up his shirt and revealing all of Tania's extensive handy work across his abdomen. “LOOK-AT-ME!”

The scar ripped across the stomach like a thick pale ribbon, raising the tissue and contorting once perfect lines. The lines of the body Lawrence had worked so hard on because Jack _demanded_ it. The endless diets. The purging. The eridium treatments. Everything to be the perfect image only to be discarded when the first cracks appeared.

“I FUCKING BLED FOR YOU!"

“Done patting yourself on the back yet?!” Jack snapped viciously, “I have twenty seven other Jack's all lined up ready to go. Got another one in your old apartment already. So move along and play this piss-baby card somewhere else."

Lawrence curled his nails in his hand and dismissed that line. Jack was lying, there was no one else in their apartment. It was just them. It had _always_ been the two of them. Nisha did not even come close to what they had.

His voice broke, whether it was from dehydration of the desert or the surge of emotions, he did not know. "Jack. It’s started; the tremors and the shakes. I’m - I’m FUCKING falling apart!"

Jack bared his teeth and hissed, "Quit this act and come on home then."

Lawrence ignored the invitation, feeling the rage curl inside of his chest like a hot painful ball. "You just _had_ to do it. Just had to fucking break me and shoot me up with that stuff again! And again! And - “

"Timmy, don't you _dare_ take that fucking tone with me," Jack stepped forward, eyes ablaze. He finally had his full attention now.

Lawrence bowed his head and turned away, keeping silent in attempt to control his rage. He felt like he was back in his old apartment when he first moved in. Small and insignificant compared to Jack, hardly worthy of his time, save for never ending scrutiny. Lawrence’s sudden quietness must have stirred something inside of Jack; it was never guilt but something akin to it, for his next words softened.

“Bleeding was always your job, Timmy. It _still_ is.”

Jack too fell silent for a moment and much to his surprise Lawrence saw his other half rotating the ring on his index finger; a nervous tell very few people knew Handsome Jack had. “Things are in motion. I - You are needed on Helios, Tim.”

“I’m needed,” Lawrence scoffed and then sighed, crossing his arms and mimicking Jack’s stance from moments earlier. “I thought we were past this, Jack.”

“You freaking -,” Jack choked on his own curse and the ring made three more turns before he finally met Lawrence’s tired gaze. “Kitten, _I_ need you. What I’m doing - I can’t do it without you,” Jack came closer and his hand reached out for Lawrence’s shoulder. “Come back to me.”

“Bullshit,” The voice behind Lawrence’s back articulated every vowel as Crake stepped forward.

Jack’s head snapped sideways and he frowned, looking at the digistruct. “Did _it_ just speak?” Jack squinted angrily at the magenta and huffed. “And what’s with the template change? Tim,” Jack turned back, annoyance plastered all over his sharpened features. “Did you fuck up my code again?”

There was no denying the absolute murderous glint in Crake's eyes as he watched Jack lecturing Lawrence. His hand slid down towards his holster and legs parted in the ready position. Even though he could not hurt Jack, Crake looked like he was ready to tear the man apart.

"Timmy, why the hell is that not ‘a Jack’ anymore? What have you done to its face!?" He barked and pointed at Crake's new look.

“Seems to me you need Tim _a lot_ more than he needs you, asshole” Crake sneered and towered down onto the digital-Jack.

“What the actual hell?" Jack stepped away from Crake and rounded onto Lawrence. "You’ve got it calling you by that 'name' now? Really?”

“And I didn’t even have to fuck him to get him calling me by my _real_ name, Jack,” Lawrence was livid now, any attempt to calm his storm was long gone. He kept himself tense and upright to try and control the stress - induced spasms surging down his arm.

"This conversation is over," Crake grounded at Jack. "Treatment or not, we don't need you."

“Crake, fucking stay out of this,” Lawrence hissed under his breath, but Jack did not miss it.

“Oh cute, you named it too.” Jack cooed mockingly, "Are you going to train it to do a bunch of tricks? Oh! Oh do you know what the number one industry for digistructs is? I'll give you a clue, looky here."

Jack made a crude gesture with his hand and Crake cursed, firing his weapon. The laser momentarily distorted the hologram’s appearance and he bent over laughing, hands on knees.

"Adorable! Well go on. Do it again!" Jack sauntered forward, arms outstretched making himself a larger target. It turned out Crake was more reserved than Jack gave him credit for, as he did not take the bait for a second shot, scowling instead.

Jack bared his teeth and lowered his arms when Crake did not yield to the taunt.   

“The treatment,” Lawrence snarled once again. "Where are you at!?"

"Oh, so it's back to business?" Jack rasped, his attention switching to Lawrence yet again.

“Whatever you have, I'll take it. It's worse than we thought.”

“How bad.”

Lawrence looked away before he slowly raised his hand and showed Jack the tremors racing up his arm. The fingers shivered and spasmed in the air and while it was not critical it would not be long till the disease progressed further.

"It comes and goes but.. But I I can barely shoot. I'm..." Lawrence trailed off.

He was scared out of his mind and that was something he could never admit to Jack. He was not scared to die; death would be an easy relief but he was terrified to waste away and become a cripple. Or worse: to become one of Jack's perverted Eridium fueled monsters.

Jack swore loudly as he stepped closer and attempted to examine Lawrence's hand.

“Tim, babe, come home. You _need_ to come home. We can fix this.”

And like always, Jack's tone dropped to a tender note. He shifted closer and turned his shoulder away from Crake. Closing the distance they had both maintained since the commencement of the call.

"Come back to me," Jack's hand met Lawrence's jaw, stroking the side and down to rest on his collarbone. “Sweet kitten.”

Lawrence closed his eyes and leaned into the 'touch'. He wanted to go home, back into Jack's arms, his bed, to be safe and shielded from everything once again.

Lawrence was a coward and fool, but Handsome Jack wasn’t. He could be that again. Be Jack. He did not want to be Timothy Lawrence anymore, it was too much.

“You know what, pretty sure I’m gonna die on this planet," Lawrence muttered. "Always thought it would be Elpis…"

“Tim,” Jack snarled, and there was a warning in his voice.

Lawrence knew what that warning was; your life belongs to me. He had made that clear when he got the first diagnosis. When Lawrence begged Jack to not let any treatment drag on, to spare him from a life hooked to a machine. Jack just laughed and for the first time in years reminded him of the contract he signed.

It broke Lawrence's heart.

Then Jack sent him to the bunker, unable to look at his broken toy until it was fixed.

“Look, I know things have been tough. You and I, we've been through so much, and I won’t lose you.” Jack's words were for him only, so quiet not even Crake would hear them.

Lawrence opened his eyes and looked back at Jack. He wanted to say 'yes' and go home, but Jack wouldn't let it be that simple. There was a catch. A price to pay. A punishment would, no doubt, await him. There was always something for Jack to take, and his disobedience for fleeing the Bunker was his greatest to date.

"Promise me everything can go back to the way it was. _Just_ as it was. The same… Just… just us. Please."

There was a twitch in Jack's gaze, his eyes sharpened, so small it was that only Lawrence could have seen it.

"You know we can't, Timmy," Jack spoke slowly, lulling softness in his voice. "I told you to do something, and you didn’t. I can't let this slip."

Lawrence opened his mouth, but nothing but a shuddering breath escaped him. He licked his lips, curling his hands in tight fists and stepped away from the hologram.

"Timmy," Jack's voice dropped to a more menacing note. "Come back here."

Lawrence dug his nails in so deep he felt the bitter sting of fresh cuts in his palms. His chest started to constrict and every breath he drew was agony.

“Please don’t do it,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Timmy! I said, get back here."

_I have nothing left to give._

What was Jack going to do? Would he bring back the AI? Kill Crake? Lock him in the apartment for months, to remind him of his solitude? Eridium? Endless stream of eridium?

" _TIM_!"

Lawrence could not recognise if it were Crake or Jack who called out. He had dropped to his knees and scraped his hands in his hair, rocking back and forth with curt sobs leaving his lips.

What was Jack going to do to him?

He just wanted to be safe. To go home. To forget anything existed. Be with Jack. _Be_ Jack.

He had not realised the call had ended, he never found out if Jack left or if Crake had cut it off. The magenta AI was close to him as Lawrence could see the familiar glow through his closed eyelids.

"Tim?"

Static ran up his spine, meaning Crake was holding him. He'd never sought out the digistructs for any kind of consolation, not like this, but at that moment Lawrence desperately wanted to be held.

“Please,” Was all he managed to squeeze out desperately leaning into the static, searching for comfort.

* * *

"He's just throwing a tantrum because I didn't check in for so long," Lawrence muttered more to reassure himself than to explain to Crake. “He always does that, touchy fuck.”

Lawrence kicked another log onto the fire and watched the flames engulf the wood, throwing sparks into the air..

"I'll call back in a few days and we will get this sorted. We always do.”

For a moment there Lawrence felt as if someone was drilling holes in his skull and, looking up, Lawrence saw Crake's nostrils flaring and his shoulders stiffen.

"Did we even listen to the same phone call?!" Crake hissed finally. "Everything will go back to the way it was. The Eridium, the abuse. Do you _honestly_ think he'd let you come back looking like this?" Crake pointed at the scars on his arms. "There is already a needle and drip of Eridium waiting for you back on Helios."

"So be it."

"SO BE IT?!" Crake jumped to his feet. "When you almost died in my fucking arms do you remember what you asked me?"

Lawrence stared at the fire, he couldn't recall much of their escape from Tania let alone what he said.

"You _begged_ me to not let anyone give you Eridium, to not be forced to stay alive, just like Jack would have done."

Crake voice took on a pleading note and Lawrence recoiled back with a frown. So much had changed about the AI since Hollow Point, even since Tania.

"None of it matters, we um... I need to - I need to go back." Lawrence stuttered from being caught off guard. Crake rarely pressed him with such matters, sure he fussed over his wellbeing, but now that Lawrence thought back on it, it was always physical, making sure he never got shot, stabbed, hurt. Never did the AI talk about his future or Jack.

"What is this about?" Lawrence probed carefully.

"Don't change the subject on me. It's about you, your future and if you want to actually 'live', rather than 'survive'.'

Lawrence was sitting up now. "Where is this coming from?"

"Where?" Crake's voice was low as if other ears were prying into their conversation. "You're miserable Tim and he's a fucking monster."

Lawrence lowered his head but kept his gaze fixed on Crake.

"What he did to you," Crake's jaw was set tight, and his voice rasped over his teeth. "That thing in your neck, the scars on your body, the damage to your-"

"Enough!" Lawrence snarled, his hands instinctively curled into fists.

"I'm not sure how more explicit I can fucking make it."

Lawrence replied in the same manner, "it's none of your concern. _Drop it_."

"No," Crake stood up, "It _is_ my concern. I've had to stand by and watch it all. You are our friend you are my- It is fucking offensive that you allow yourself to be treated like garbage by that asshole! You actually _miss_ him you fucking said that! What is wrong with you?!” Crake took a deep breath even if he did not need to and crossed his arms.

"What the hell has gotten into you!" Lawrence barked back, unamused by the truthful and highly unwelcome confrontation. "Angel said you were acting differently in Hollowpoint. Then you yell at Jack. Are you glitching?"

Crake looked like he was ready to snap, his lip curled up just like Jack's would before the storm broke, but the moment passed and Crake steadied himself.

"Goodnight, Tim."

And he flashed away into the watch.

* * *

At first, Lawrence thought the voice was Jack’s, but as the sleep started to wear off, he noticed that the intonation was too chirpy, and the diction was overly hasty. It sounded an awful lot like Nyx.

He inconspicuously rose one eye open and tried to keep his breathing just as deep and even as before.

Crake was crouching in front of Lawrence’s echo, head cocked sideways with a small smile on his lips.

“-so we had to readjust our B&B campaign with you gone, you've been temporarily eaten by an alpha Sand Dragoon! Angel and I are gonna save you!”

“Hush it, you’ll wake up Tim,” Crake hissed back, yet there was no animosity in his voice. “Also as far as I’m concerned I can stay eaten, I hate that game.”

“Sorry,” Nyx drawled, not at all implying he actually was. “We're setting off in three cycles. Time's a wastin if you want to come back."

"Unlikely," Crake sighed. "Anyway, are you behaving? Don’t overburden Angel, remember who you look like, Nyx."

"Pfft, yes," the blue AI said and there was a sly undertone in his voice, "I'm behaving."

Crake cleared his throat, another new quality the digistruct had adopted from none other than Lawrence.

"How is she? Angel?"

"Ask her yourself! I can call her over."

"No, that's quite alright."

Nyx just hummed back. "Sure, I'll let her know you said 'hi'."

Lawrence closed his eyes again and let his mind fall back into his blissful slumber. He could never explain why but being down on Pandora was some of the best dreamless sleeps he'd ever had, even if Nisha had been camping next to him, or, on occasion, on top of him.

"It’s not the same here, when are you coming back? Have you spoken to Tim yet? Janey's swearing just doesn't have the same level of passion as Tim's, and we need to finish the campaign together."

When Crake was done snorting, he lowered his voice and moved closer to the receiver.

“Jack called.”

Lawrence was abruptly pulled back into the conversation, he opened his eye again and focused on the echo. Predictably Nyx's expression had turned dark.

"Why?" his voice was a but a hiss. "Why did you let him do that?!"

"Not much I can do to stop him like this." Crake raised his arms and inspected his translucent self.

“Well, what did that...that decrepit piece of...stupid...piss waste want now?" Nyx fumbled his words, a trait he always carried when he tried to find the correct adjective to insult Jack. "Crake, the guy is a monster."

“Same old,” Crake’s voice was low and full of badly masked disdain. “They screeched at each other like skags, and then I closed the call.”

"You did?" Nyx snorted loudly and cheered before his voice dropped to disgust once again. "But how is this different from any conversation those two have?”

“I don’t know... something feels different. I’m hopeful.”

“Oh, baby brother, Look at you,” Nyx mockingly pitched his voice. "Hopeful about what?"

“That Tim will see, you know, that Jack… Oh shut it, you blue moron," Crake stammered and slammed at the comm with irritation. His palm ran through it, and Nyx laughed, pleased with the reaction he elicited.

"Stay safe and keep Angel and the rest safe." Crake grounded, "I can't be there to look after all of you anymore."

Nyx whined and complained about being a competent guardian. He had lost his sight of Angel only once and only because she left the echo behind.

"Good. I wish I could say the same on our end, but going back to Helios...well there will be no happiness there."

Something rustled on the other side, Nyx cussed, and Angel’s sleepy voice entered the speakers.

“Crake? Tim? Is that you?”

Lawrence bolted upwards, “Turn it off!” He hissed as he dove forwards and slammed the button, disconnecting the call.

“Why did you do that?” Crake asked sourly, running his hand through the echo.

“I’m uh... I’m not ready to talk to her yet... It’s-“

“If it were Jack you’d be wagging your tail right now,” Crake replied bitterly looking at Lawrence provocatively, "Like the good dog you are."

“What did you just say?!”

It was Crake’s turn to open his mouth and close it, without making a sound. Lawrence, however, was not done. Jack aside, he never took shit from anyone and, as their latest conversation had proven even Crake's bullshit had finally reached the scale-tipping proportion.

The AI shook his head and stood up, legs wide and arms crossed. The ‘fight me’ position Jack and all his derivatives unconditionally shared.

“You and Jack,” Crake started, every sound more like a hiss coming from his clenched mouth. “We are all done with it, and you should be too.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Lawrence replied sarcastically, “did I program you to be my fucking relationship counsellor?”

“What you have is not a fucking relationship Tim!” Crake barked and pixelated forwards to face Lawrence. “It’s a hellhole of torture and mental abuse, and you can’t even see that! But _we_ do!”

“Jack is not always-“

“Not always what? Sadistic? Insane? Possessive?” Crake’s voice gained in volume. “What a relief it is when your _considerate_ boyfriend is not shoving needles or eridium into you!”

“Oh fuck off!” Lawrence exploded back.

Crake pixelated behind him and before Lawrence could swing around Crake drove his hand into his neck. The static from Crake entered the port, and Lawrence's vision went white, extracting a soft cry from his throat.

"And this?! This should have been the tipping point! HE WAS GOING TO REPLACE YOU WITH AN AI" Crake bellowed in his ear.

"He got rid of the AI, he got rid of it FOR ME!" Lawrence threw a hand over the back of his neck and jumped to his feet. “What does a bunch of pixels and altered brain scans know about anything?”

Crake returned to face him and threw his palm forward. A small video feed erupted above his palm.

“He made me watch everything! Pandora Solar Cycle 235/12324"

The feed showed Lawrence curled up against his bed, fumbling with his medication as he sought to drive away the pain from the burns across his face.

"He branded your face just to mark you as his! Like fucking cattle!"

"It didn't happen like-"

"356/12324, Jack smashed your head into the toilet bowl, rending you unconscious. You don't remember but we were summoned as you laid there on the floor. You were starving yourself for weeks!"

"It was my fault-"

"And then there was this incident! Jack almost killed you...if... I hadn't called Nisha he would have succeeded."

"Crake, I..I don't want to watch it."

"Yes you will, look what he did to you! _Look_!"

‘Warning! User: Timothy Lawrence Condition: critical,’ the feed from Crake's palm flashed, and Lawrence grimaced as he saw two digistructs came into existence. Jack was on top of him, his hands fixed on his throat, throttling him against the ground.

"Turn it off," Lawrence moved forward, angrily swiping at the feed trying to distort it.

“Pl- pl - se...” His past-self was rasping on the floor through the broken voice modulator, his movements becoming sluggish. His arms struggled to pry Jack off him.

"H- H- help... help me."

"Stop that now, they can't help you." Jack raised his past self's head off the ground only to smash it back down. His entire body momentary went limp. Jack was furious, he thrashed Lawrence's body over and over to encourage a response from him. A dark arterial spray scattered across the floor with every sickening crunch to the ground.

The old Nyx and Crake stood motionless to the side. Unable to help and unable to do anything due to the restrictions of their AI laws.

Jack drew a blade.

Lawrence knew what was going to happen next. He pulled his gaze away from the video recording. His fingers instinctively drew to his sniper mark.

He'd seen enough.

"Shut it off!" Lawrence wanted to scream, but his voice came out as a short cry.

“I know more than you think. I -,” Crake unnaturally fumbled his words and turned away. “You worry me, now more than ever! After Tania, after everything that happened, please-”

"Leave me."

Lawrence leaned against a nearby boulder and closed his eyes. He was so tired, so over these memories. They were better buried, and Crake should know better than to force him to remember.

"Tim, we-"

"Go away," Lawrence muttered into the gravel.

"Tim please."

"FUCK OFF! Go on, get out of here!" Lawrence roared back, pressing face into the sharp rock, feeling the edges prickle at his skin.

Unlike their last argument Crake refused to back down and he started to approach, his movements slower and gentler than before. Just like Jack, Crake was going to try and soothe him, say everything was going to be alright.

Nothing was ‘alright’. Everything was shit.

Crake had to go, they all had to go. He was sick of it all, the pity and the disgust in their gazes. What did they know of it? They weren't there, they did not see Jack for what he saw. As his other half.

"I'm going back to Helios. Alone."

* * *

"What?" Crake paused. He had heard correctly, he always did, but the question still fell from his mouth all the same.

Tim rested a hand on the watch.

"What...are you? Lawrence?" his words dropped to a hoarse whisper, eyes glued to the watch as Tim fumbled with the latch.

"I'll call the others and they can come to find you."

His stiff fingers had finally managed to unclip the lock, and he tossed the watch on the sand.

"Tim?"

Crake did something that was not part of his programming. He did not know if it was something he conjured up in that moment or something that was always lingering within his code but at that moment Crake started to hyperventilate.

He did not draw air, but his movements began to feel sluggish, choked, and broken as he opened his mouth and closed it sporadically.

"Pick it up, Lawrence, pick up the watch."

There was fear on Crake’s face, the kind he had always reserved for dire situations. Being left at the curb was one of them.

Lawrence scoffed bitterly, "I am done with your lectures and your hovering! I made you, then I freed you. There is no reason for you to be here anymore. I’m done with this."

"Timothy, pick up the damn watch," Crake grounded, keeping his voice even.

"I don't like what you're becoming. You’re overprotective, interfering, concerning yourself with matters above you when I _specifically_ ask you to leave me the fuck alone!"

"If you're playing the asshole card to get me to willing let you go, it won't work, I _know_ you."

"Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” Lawrence raged through grit teeth as he proceeded to equip his gear. “You call me Tim, but you never met that person. You have no fucking idea! There hasn’t been a ‘Tim’ for a _long_ time."

Crake moved in closer, yet Tim only edged away towards his backpack and threw it over his shoulders.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on with your programming, but it was better when you said cheesy one - liners," Lawrence spat out venomously. "I don't need a counsellor. Or a fucking babysitter. I need someone to fight alongside me and you've overstepped your designated role. I don’t want this… Whatever is that you're becoming."

His holster was on his shoulders, gear chip and echo latched to his belt.

"Goodbye Crake, thanks for your service but you're not needed anymore."

"Tim!" Crake cried out. He'd never cried out before, and he felt what he could only discern was panic.

"Wait!" he pixelated in front of Tim, blocking his path to the motorcycle. "Wait, ok, I'm sorry for belittling you. You worry me, that's all."

Lawrence walked through him.

"Tim!" he called to him, but Lawrence made no motion to look at him. "TIM! Don't leave me here!"

Crake couldn't understand why he was leaving. He'd never done anything Tim did not want him to do. Defence was in his programming, protection from everything and everyone, Jack included. And Jack...he was the greatest of evils, it all came down to that and Lawrence refused to see that.

Tim had made it to the bike and was wheeling it out of the shrubs, Crake pixelated to his side again.

"Protecting you is my primary protocol, it always has been! Please Tim, don't make me go."

Lawrence paused his departure and swung around to face him, eyes narrowed and lip curled in disgust.

"You don't have a primary protocol, I removed it."

Crake opened his mouth, but the words died there. He had always focused on that; save Tim, protect him from Jack, keep him safe, and maybe someday let him be happy.

"No..." Crake shook his head, panic on his face. "No, I- I can still follow it."

"ENOUGH!" Tim roared back, "It's pathetic, _you_ are pathetic! There is no primary protocol. You're just making this up, It’s all in your head! Nothing binds you to me, I'm doing you a fucking favour!"

Crake could not express what he felt and for the first time in his existence, he was lost.

Lawrence sat on the seat, hands fumbling in his pockets for the keys. “The others will come to get you in the next cycle. I'll make sure of it.”

Crake stood by Tim's side, his hands hovering above his jacket in desperation.

"Tim, you can't beat him on your own. He always wins, always breaks you," Crake whispered. "Please, let's make a plan, together. Please, just stay."

Tim said nothing and started the ignition. As he drove off Crake pixelated after him as far as the watch allowed him.

"TIMOTHY!"

Tim did not look back, and Crake continued to yell as he pixelated after him. Soon there was nothing but dust, and Tim was getting further away. Crake tried to reach him, desperately attempting to move further but found himself being pulled back by the limits of the watch.

Over and over again he tried to get closer but Tim only got further away until there was nothing but dust and speck on the horizon.

Crake curled his hands and paced back and forth, he tried to connect to something, an echo, anything to reach his brother, but he was alone.

There was nothing and no one.

Crake had never been truly alone before, and it utterly terrified him. Immortality bound to a watch in the middle of nowhere. Forever was a _very_ long time.

How long would he have to wait? What if no one came?

There were two prospects for AI's with free will and both held disturbing consequences. An artificial intelligence driven mad by the constraints of an intangible state and immorality, or utterly lost and broken from seeking human form.

He was facing prospect one, while somewhere out there his brother struggled with the other.

If Tim ever came back would he even be the same?

Crake screamed into his hands.

He didn't understand. He thought everyone wanted him to be like this.

_'More human.'_

To care, to empathise with others, to try and help.

He could not comprehend the situation. He played Tim's words over and over again, analysing every syllable, every muscle twitch. His hands began scratching at his sides restlessly. Crake needed Nyx but without Tim's echo, he could not make the call.

It was...had been his primary protocol; to protect the keeper of the watch, to protect Tim. He just wanted everything with Jack in it to end. Lawrence deserved better, his brother and Angel deserved better. This whole shithole of a planet deserved so much better than Handsome Jack and Timothy could not see it. No, _refused_ to see it, hurting everyone he could in his denial - induced blindness.

A long and sorrowful wail rolled across the dunes in the fading Pandoran light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the awesome response on the last chapter! I hope you dig this one just as much, plus you got a taste of your first Crake POV! how was it? There will be more in the future :D 
> 
> Also if you haven't already, please check out [Zopadthekat](https://zopadthekat.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, she's done some very nice fanart and art inspired by this fic!
> 
> And thanks to [Eternal-Garbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who is always improving my writing :D :D :D
> 
> As always comments make my day, Xxx
> 
>  **Next Update:** Angel, Nyx and the girls leave Hollow point.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	33. Glass & Sand

Angel never had to maintain routines at the Bunker; always plugged into the system, continually on call for Jack, and the Eridium kept her in perfect stasis. When her body was at the peak of its endurance for the purple mineral she needed not sleep nor eat. Morning routines were a thing of the past too, and now, as Angel fidgeted under the covers of the couch, she found some small part of her missing that constant static state.

She hated dreaming, and she despised waking up. 

"Come on Angel you need to help pack." Felicity's voice stirred her from her thoughts.

"I don't want to," Angel said sourly and moved restlessly into her pillow. 

"You cannot leave all the work to Janey and Athena. You know the risk they're taking-"

"I know, ok!" Angel snapped. She was so sick of being reprimanded and handed around like some unwanted responsibility.

Felicity silenced for some time after that and Angel found herself close to tears when she finally apologised to the AI. She was not Lawrence, and she would not push away those who cared for her.

Thinking of the doppelganger of her father Angel huffed bitterly as she sought out her belongings. She did not have much, just some spare clothes, another echo, and various gadgets she'd collected from the market.

Angel fretted as she packed her bag, doing the zip up and down to no purpose.

Lawrence was gone and he had made no effort to contact her and check in. There had been one call from Crake which was abruptly ended the moment Angel tried to say hello, and she had a pretty good guess as to why.

Thankfully the source of the call was still on Pandora and not Helios; there was still time for him to change his mind and come back. 

Yet, did she want him to come back?

Lawrence only required a poke in the wrong spot for him to wear that Handsome Jack 'mask' so effortlessly. How long would it have taken for him to snap and do something akin to her father? Angel concluded she could not justify having him in her life.

It was better now that he left.

She swung the bag over her shoulder and latched her echo, gear-chip and a rustic digistruct device - provided by Janey - to her belt. Nyx had tried his best to be happy about his new accommodation, but Angel knew the AI was restless without his brother and the freedom the watch once gave him.

This 'new' device only emitted a fixed hologram, and his voice could not project from within himself, nor could he shoot lasers or project games and apps like he once did. The one benefit was that the battery lasted significantly longer. Angel flicked it on as she reached the garage. 

"Morning!" Nyx beamed brightly. 

Though he stood next to her, his voice could only come from the device on her belt. He bitterly glanced down at the digistruct device before drawing his eyes up at Janey. 

"Are we finally leaving?"

"Yup, so pack your digital bags, blue, I want to be on the road by noon," Janey quipped back.

Lawrence's abrupt departure and his secret deal with Athena had darkened even Janey's bright spirit. Angel carefully walked around the back of the truck and threw her backpack in. She said nothing and kept to herself since Lawrence left; not wanting to be caught in the crossfire between the two women. 

A heavier bag was swung in front of her and landed in the trailer. Janey gruffed as she lifted up another swag and tossed it in. Resting her hands on her hips, the older women glanced down at Angel. 

Janey's once annoyed features softened as she spoke, "Angel, honey, it ain't you." She sighed again before continuing, "if Athena, or I, seem a little off...a little bitter, well it has something to do with a guy whose name rhymes with Jimothy."

Angel nodded meekly and said nothing.

"His actions, don't change a thing about you, ok?"

Angel nodded again.

"Has anyone seen the skag?" 

Athena strode into the garage and swung her own bag into the back.

"No?" Angel replied, worry already drowning her voice, "where is she?" she clutched at the hems of her sleeves.

Athena only shrugged. "Gone, I guess."

Janey gave Athena a stern look before turning back to Angel.

"She's probs just done a runner for a bit, ok? Skags do it all the time."

"So we're just going to leave her?" Angel said. 

Janey worried her lip and gave Athena another quick 'look' before putting on an encouraging face for Angel.

"Trust me, that thing will show up."

But she did not, and as they started the ute and drove out through the long tunnel of Hollow Point Angel wondered if she'd ever see her pet again. By the time they reached the Dust, there was still no word from Lawrence. Nyx told her he tried multiple times to contact him yet received no response. Lawrence had gone off the grid, and with him, Crake too.

Nyx had said nothing, but he was not as subtle with his emotions as he presented himself to be. Angel saw the worry in his eyes as he disconnected from Angel's comm, a moment later he retreated to the rooftop of the car. She'd considered hacking Lawrence's echo - nothing was truly in the dark for her - but after some thought, she reasoned 'why bother?'.

Forgetting Lawrence Angel admitted there was someone else she wanted to contact.

Since their time in Hollow Point her mind had been tracing back to one individual; a certain firey red-head, who'd once been the only  flame of light in her life. Ever since their plan to journey to Sanctuary was confirmed Angel had been playing out her potential reunion with the mechromancer upon almost every hour.

Would Gaige yell at her bitterly for the deception and her allegiance to Handsome Jack? Or would she hug her with blind happiness at seeing her safe return? Angel prayed for later, yet expected nothing short of anger and feelings of betrayal from the other woman. 

Angel had been a tool to Handsome Jack, and in a way, she was a tool for the Vault Hunters to get what they wanted. 

She shifted restlessly against the ute, seeking a more comfortable position against the metal railing in the trailer. Janey was driving, and Athena was up front, though the gladiator had insisted she sat out back as a first and last defence against any bandits. Angel had fought to sit in the trailer, eager for some splashes of sun and just to feel the wind in her hair.

And when she opened her eyes wide and pleaded her case, they could not argue with that.

Though, outside the roar of the engine was not hindered by glass or walls and Angel could scarcely hear herself think. So when Nyx finally came to her side after sitting on the rooftop and enjoying the view -  she practically had to yell at him to have a conversation. Eventually, she gave up, and let her mind wander into the digistruct device (but not before asking Nyx for permission first), so she could hear him clearly.

"I'm so over saaaaannnddd," Nyx drawled loudly and capriciously. "Angel, do something siren-y, like, make a portal and take the sand away."

Angel groaned, mildly annoyed at the childish request, "if only it were that easy."

She raised her tattooed arm and studied the pale white marks across her hand. She had no idea what the extent or the limits of her powers were.

Even Jack, with all his morbid curiosities and obsession with knowing the secrets of the universe, did not push Angel to use her powers beyond her known limits. After the loss of her mother, John shunned and forbade her from using the abilities for years. He went as far as to make her wear a digistruct device to shield her tattoos from all the prying eyes. He lied to her it was for her own good. Lying was the only thing her father ever did.

To everyone else, John's wife died in an accident, and he was blessed to have a daughter survive the blast. Unable to even look at her he buried himself in his work. It became his addiction, his obsession to combat the grief. It was there where he learned of the Vaults and only then did he come back needing his daughter once again.

Or, rather, wanting his siren by his side.

"Angel?" Nyx nudged her with a static shoulder, making the markings shimmer gently. "You're doing a Tim."

"A what?"

"You know, a Tim, sad and no speaky.”

"Oh, um, just thinking. I'm ok."

Angel rested her hands down on her knees and tried to let happier memories sit in her mind, or better yet, new ones.

"Nyx," she started thoughtfully, "do you think, I, um, should tell anyone at Sanctuary I'm coming?"

The digistruct’s eyebrows flew up, and he gave her the smallest of curious glares.

"Nah," Nyx replied finally, his tone eerily familiar in its brashness. “Give them a real shock when you rock up, I want to see their dumb faces. ‘Oh hi, I'm the Guardian Angel. Thanks for killing me but I got better’."

He snorted at his own wit.

"Ok,” Angel answered slowly, not at all enthused by Nyx’s suggestion. “But what if it was one person in particular?"

Nyx only shrugged and crossed his arms on his chest, giving her a helpless look.

"I dunno, I guess?" he frowned before continuing, "ask Felicity?"

"It's not like I need permission," Angel scoffed.

"I'm sure AI mum would not agree," Nyx's voice was shrewd and the next moment a wide grin was once again plastered all over his face. "Soon she'll be setting curfews, and assigning homework."

"And what does that make you?"

"I'm your cool older brother that all your girlfriends pine for during sleepovers."

"Ewww, that's just weird Nyx. No. No more.”

Angel screwed her face up from just thinking about Nyx flirting with anyone. He still maintained the image of Jack, albeit a 20 something looking one, it didn't stop Angel from considering the concept weird and off-putting. She had seen her father flirt. It had always been terrible.

"Oh come on! When I get a real body, all the ladies will love me!"

It mildly amused Angel how Nyx pronounced ‘ladies’ with the same intonation as Jack. She shuddered at the thought once more.

"Not with that attitude," Angel scoffed with a wide smirk.

“I'm going to ask Moxxi out, you'll see. She’s so pretty! And those-“

"Right," Angel agreed with him hastily with no enthusiasm for his success. 

That would be a sight to see for sure. The younger digital not-Jack trying to woo his originator's ex, and if the stories were true, Lawrence’s temporary crush. 

"So who's the person we're gonna call? Let's prank them, or pretend you're the voice of the dead."

When Angel groaned and looked away, Nyx silenced for a moment, examining her face. He stared often enough for her to get used to, and Angel had guessed that the digistructs were still learning such things as subtlety.

"Or we could not?"

"It's a girl." Angel finally admitted fumbling with her hands and not daring to look up. "A girl I used to talk to when I was at the Bunker, or at least until Jack found out."

Angel had expected Nyx to laugh and make some ever-so-awful Jack-like remark but instead, he pouted thoughtfully before sighing.

"I see. And you don't know how she's going to react when she sees you?"

Angel jerked her head up and looked at the sapphire blue AI in the eye. His usually smug expression had softened, and Angel noted how surreal it still was to see such emotive and kind expressions on his face.

On Jack's face.

“Yeah, I...um, don't know what to say to her. Now... or when I see her."

Nyx hummed and nodded, "just like my dumb brother," he muttered softly. 

Angel's brow furrowed, she was not sure she heard him right. “Crake?"

"He's the master of not knowing what to say about a certain someone."

And when Angel still said nothing, searching his face for a trace of joking Nyx sighed and rubbed his neck.

“Look, put it this way. If there is one person who can talk sense into Tim, it's Crake." Nyx paused and looked concerned for a moment. "I mean, that's only if he hurries up and gets the damn words out."

Angel tensed for a moment and once again studied Nyx seeking a hint for the lie, or waiting for the punch-line to drop, and when he said nothing Angel recoiled.

"Are you saying...That Crake? and Tim?"

Nyx rolled his eyes and nodded. "Sooner or later they'll be back making goo-goo eyes at each other." 

"You're serious?"

"When am I not?" He raised a brow in alliance with a toothy grin.

Angel thought back on how she'd unknowingly watched a private moment between the red AI and Tim through her echo. Crake's concern for Tim was as plain as the grief on his face, but Tim had only called him Jack before falling back into his drug-induced slumber.

Angel wasn't so sure of Nyx's assessment. 

"So this girl," Nyx started with a chirpy note, "you going to sweep her off her feet?"

"No," Angel said brashly, before grinning, "I wouldn't have the strength."

"Oh, so that's what's stopping you? right," Nyx hummed sarcastically. "It's ok, I'll be your wingman."

Angel burst out laughing and expelled the bitter resentments from her mind. 

"Nyx for the love of all Sirens, please, do not do that."

The ute abruptly hit some uneven ground, and Angel found her teeth jumping around in her mouth. A nipped tongue was ever so close to passing. She leaned over the trailer edge and saw Janey was taking them to higher ground. Ahead an old used campsite sat against the rocky peaks of the Dust. It was not that different from where she and Lawrence had first camped when they left his safe house.

No matter how hard Angel tried to bury it, her mind kept drifting back to the doppelganger. She wondered if he'd called Jack yet, would he give her up?

_ No _ , she thought.

Lawrence would not act so callous, though...Jack had his ways, and it seemed he especially had his ways with his double. Angel felt sick at the notion and was thankful they had not stopped for lunch. Her stomach couldn't handle any more thoughts of Jack. 

She concluded that with Lawrence gone it was only a matter of time before Jack knew of her survival. The quicker she was on Sanctuary, the better and the safer she and everyone would be. Angel smiled at the thought of being anywhere other than the Dust, and when she got to Sanctuary, she was going to have a word to whoever was in charge of their cybersecurity. 

It needed one hell of an upgrade.

Before the ute came to a halt, Nyx was out of the trailer and back onto the roof to examine the surrounding space.

"Oh yes! A fantastic view of more sand!" he cheered scornfully, and Angel was sure if he had a body he would have slapped the roof of the car in a toast. 

"Come on, out ya get!" Janey cheered as she jumped out of the driver's seat. 

Angel crawled to the edge of the trailer and slowly swung herself over, down onto the dark red earth below. Nyx was pulled to her side as she moved around to collect her gear, unable to travel no further than a metre or so from the digistruct device. He wore a sour face as he was pulled from his position on the roof.

Athena did not bother with her gear and immediately began to climb up onto the boulders to seek higher ground. Just like Crake, she was going to check the perimeter and ensure their safety.

"Hey!" Nyx blurted in her ear and Angel jumped to the side. He proceeded to walk through her, something he rarely did and rushed to the ground.

"What's that!?" he pointed to something smooth and green in the sand, it was a vivid contrast to the brown and rough earth. Angel bent down and picked up the small stone, rolling it over in her hands she realised it was a piece of smooth glass.

"It's just some glass, Nyx."

"Yeah but it's shiny."

"Um, do you want me to keep it?" She asked thoughtfully.

He nodded his head. 

"Look there's more over here!" 

The task of setting up camp was quickly forgotten while Angel followed Nyx as he tugged on the boundaries of the digistruct device.

"This one is blue, oh and there are some red pieces here!"

Angel smiled softly and began to collect the scattered pieces of glass.

"Don't go too far, kids!" Janey called out.

"So, what do you want me to do with these," she asked as she held up her new shiny collection.

Nyx only shrugged. 

Angel sighed, amused by his enthusiasm and lack of a plan.

"I'll scan them into my gear-chip later, ok?"

It was going to be a waste of space, food or water should have accommodated the server realestate, but Nyx’s new found love for the shiny pieces of treasure was hard to refuse. Soon after camp was set up and the cycle was coming to a close, though the Pandora sun would not let up for another twenty hours.

They had some canned goods for dinner, deep fried in oil, and Angel was thankful thank Janey had packed more of that 'chicken salt' to season the lot.

Little to nothing was said as they ate, and Angel could not throw off the feeling of being an unwanted burden. Nyx tried to lighten the atmosphere, Felicity too, but Athena and Janey were still not entirely themselves. 

So it caught Angel off guard when Athena abruptly stood up, digitised a small handgun and shoved it into Angel's face.

"You're going to learn how to shoot."

"I ah, I'm what?" Angel stuttered looking at the gun with bewilderment.

"Shoot. You need to learn, that idiot Timothy should have taught you."

"He didn't, because I don't need to learn. I know how a gun works."

Athena huffed out a smug sound at that. 

"We shall see."

Angel looked between Janey, and Nyx, hoping one of them would intervene but both of them were staring at Athena with an odd look, apparently entertained by the idea.

"I think it's an excellent idea," Felicity announced.

And that settled the matter.

The x-Vault Hunter located a clear spot for Angel to practice, before setting up their used cans onto a boulder. Athena paced behind her, and with a small yelp from Angel, she closed in on her, grabbing her wrists and adjusting her aim.

"Careful now, hun" Janey quipped from the side, and Athena loosened her grip on Angel.

"Is it loaded?" Angle asked.

"You never have an unloaded gun on Pandora," Athena replied sharply.

All of John's lessons on gun safety were apparently not needed any more.

"Move the gun into your dominant hand."

"Oh...ok," Angel slowly shifted her hands over. So her left sat over the grip with her finger running down the side, and her right hand now closed over it. 

Angel glanced down the sight and lined the weapon over the closest can sitting no more than five metres away.

"Muzzle down slightly."

Angel adjusted her aim accordingly.

"Shoot."

"Wait, that's it?"

"For now."

Angel directed an anxious stare at Athena, before resigning her attention back to the gun. She lined it up once again, keeping the muzzle ever so slightly down and pulled the trigger.

The gun recoiled with a booming noise and a sharp breath shot out of her lungs. 

She missed, but that was to be expected.

"Ok, try again."

Angel did and with slightly more confidence. On the fourth shot, she finally hit the can, and it went flying off the boulder. 

"I did it!" she cheered and felt surprised by her own wonder at success.

"Ok, now for a moving target."

"Wait, what?!" Angel rounded.

"Nyx, would you please?"

The AI burst out laughing and pixelated in front of Angel. 

"I am not shooting Nyx!"

"You can't hurt me!" He gushed, not at all phased with the situation.

"Well, he's too close!" Angel declared and lowered the weapon to her side. 

Nyx was standing no more than a metre from her, to shoot him, and at point blank, was a concept Angel did not want to become familiar with. 

"That's not what we're testing here," Athena said. "You need to be prepared to shoot another human being. No hesitations. This is Pandora, and like it or not, you will have to fire that gun at someone."

Janey was by her side now, a hand on her shoulder and another around her wrist taking the gun away.

"No. She doesn't Athena, this is enough for today."

Angel let out a short breath, relieved for the intervention.

"Awww," Nyx whined, "I had all the theatrics planned out, I wanna get shot at."

"When you get a real boy blue your tune will change," Janey retorted back.

Angel couldn't help but stare at the scars on the woman's abdomen and up her arms. A pain as terrible and as physical as that was something Angel had scarcely felt, and she was ever so very slightly glad her sheltered life had kept her away from such horrors.

Just thinking about Lawrence's Atlas Hello would put her off a day's worth of food.

With the shooting lesson abruptly over, they returned to camp, and Angel noted that the two women settled down together in an oversized swag, seeing them at each other's side's again removed some of the tension within her. As she laid down for the end of the cycle, Nyx said his goodbyes and went away.

She needed rest, but Angel did not want sleep. Sleep meant dreaming, becoming vulnerable to the horrors in her mind, and with that losing control. There was no Lawrence to save them this time, and she did not dare think of the consequences if her mind got into Nyx's code unrestrained.

Angel rolled over and cursed out a huff in frustration. 

Restless thoughts aside, it was always a struggle to sleep with the overbearing light radiating down on them, and it didn't take long for Angel to get up from her swag and find a quiet place in the shade to sit and tinker with her echo. 

There was an idea Angel had been playing with. Ever since her promise to Nyx to find a way to let him be 'real' she had been thinking of short-term solutions. He could not remain living in the small device on her waist. An AI with freewill could become as human as her, and such imprisonment had to be weighing down on him.

Angel hoped her plan would work, and with a quite wish for her success she hit the switch on the digistruct device and prepared herself for the flash of blue which would explode next to her.

"Don't you need sleep?" Nyx interjected before she could greet him.

Angel only shrugged and pointed up at the sun blasting above them. She did not tell him that she was afraid to sleep.

"So what are we up to?"

"Nothing," Angel answered honestly, yet her tone must have wavered as Nyx raised a tilted chin and replied in a sly tone.

"Right, sure 'nothing'."

"Come here," Angel sighed.

Raising her knee, she untied her shoes and kicked them both off.

Nyx remained silent.

"Come on, sit next to me", she gestured to the ground next to her.

Nyx rolled his eyes but obeyed and sat crossed legged next to her.

"Sit like I am." 

"Ok," Nyx replied slowly, drawing out his words of mistrust. He leaned against the bolder and stretched his legs out like hers.

"Now, first off I don't want to get your hopes up, as I have no idea if I can pull this off."

Nyx lips pulled into a crooked smile, "sure, so what are we doing?"

"I'm going to let you touch the sand." She paused, "if you want me to."

Nyx's lips parted, and he glanced at the ground and then back to Angel.

"You...can do that?" His tone was enamoured in a soft wonder. 

"Please, don't get your hopes up. I don't know."

Nyx seemed not to have heard as he was already running his hands into the dirt below them trying to touch it.

"So is that a yes?" Angel asked, remembering the last time she invaded the AI's privacy without permission.

Nyx hurriedly nodded his head.

Angel beamed, "I'm going to pull your conscious into my mind, I'll also take control of your form. When I wiggle my toes in the sand, well, hopefully, you'll do it too and feel it through me."

Nyx hands grew restless at his sides, all he did was nod again enthusiastically.

"Ok." She bit her lip and tightened her grasp around the digistruct device in her hand. "Here we go."

She summoned her powers and let her mind travel into the software, locating Nyx was easy. He practically jumped into her consciousness. She felt the familiar rush of information as she had when she pulled the viral Felicity across. However this time she wasn't transferring the AI anywhere, she needed to hold him in her mind. A first and a difficult feat. Angel sought Nyx's movement protocols, she dug deeper into his controls. When she found what she was looking for, she latched onto Nyx in both her mind and in the digistruct device. 

Carefully, she controlled Nyx's feet to move through the sand and with identical precision she did the same thing with her own feet. 

Nyx cried a stifled gasp.

Angel's eyes were closed, furiously concentrating as she moved her feet again in sync with Nyx. 

"ah..." Nyx heaved, she could practically feel his heavy breathing. "Oh my god, I can feel...breathing? I'm breathing!"

Angel chuckled.

"I CAN FEEL YOU LAUGH!"

Though, Angel's laughter was short lived, soon after she felt as if blisters were bursting across her mind. She squeezed her toes one last time in the sand.

"Fu-ck!" Nyx choked as he cheered, "Is that the sand?!"

Nyx continued to pant next to her, his breathing heavy filled with childish wonder. 

"I-I can't," Angel bit her lip and drew a sharp breath, "I can't hold on anymore." With a gasp, she released Nyx back into the device and tore her mind away from him.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING!"

He cheered so loud in her ear, Angel was sure he woke the others. She rested her head to the side against the boulder and breathed out deeply. With her eyes closed, she focused on controlling her powers within her own mind.

"Angel?" Nyx asked softly.

She did not answer, already too worn to move. 

"Oh, shit, are you ok?" he leaned over her, his bright blue form pierced her closed eyes.

"I'm ok," she mumbled sleepily. "I'm finally tired now."

"Yeah, but, let's not do that again?"

She nodded against the gravel, before pulling herself up and retreating back to the swag. The headache she bore was painful, but at least she was too exhausted to dream now. As she climbed into her bed, Nyx thanked her and sat down next to her.

"That was awesome, but please, try to get some rest."

She mumbled softly in reply before she closed her eyes and drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I think this is my weakest chapter to date? the whole delay in getting this out was that I had no idfea what to write about. I wanted some time with Angel, Nyx and the girls, but I was really lost with what to cover. So I kept it shorter than most my chapters, rather than drag it out with pointless scenes.
> 
> Any way, with that said, I hope you still enjoyed it. I'll be back to my familiar writings of angsty and stupid Tim decisions in the next update. 
> 
> And thanks to [Eternal-Garbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who added in something somewhere in this chapter. 
> 
> As always comments make my day, Xxx
> 
>  **Next Update:** Tim deals with the fallout of his piss-poor choices.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	34. The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **12/10/18 heya! If you’re a new reader and you’ve got to the end I would love to hear from you! Xxx flat out with uni and would love the extra support :3**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Heya guys, please note I've had to add some new tags to this fic! If it puts you off reading further leave a comment and I'll reply with any answers you have (ill then delete the comment so no one is spoiled, but you should receive it in your email inbox!)

Hollow Point was on the horizon, but that was not his destination. Lawrence needed to go west back the way he'd come. Along the river, through the Dust, past his safe house, through the highlands to the Bunker. One fast travel later and he'd be home. Back on Helios with Jack where he should have been all this time. 

As the wind took across his face, and the sun sat low in the sky, Lawrence lamented. He scarcely recalled how he ended up on this stupid crusade; kill the Siren, betray Jack, and escape Pandora. From his time sent to the bunker and everything till now was one pointless endeavour after another. His end goal had always been to get back to Helios, and when Jack refused, he acted out.

Lawrence breathed deeply, and briefly closed his eyes from the road and took a moment to reassure himself. 

Jack wanted him back, he said so himself. Now was the time to forfeit his poor conceived plans and return to where he should have always been.

Focusing back on the road Lawrence cursed again. The Pandora sun was not giving him a moment's rest, and Lawrence flinched as the glare from the mirror flashed across his eyes. He fiddled with the damn thing as his focus darted between the console and the road.

He just needed to get home, he needed Jack, he needed -

Something dashed across the trail in front of him, Lawrence's heart tore against his chest almost winding him from his own shock. His reflexes were not as they once were, and when he tried to correct his course his hand spasmed, jerking the bike to the side. The bike caught the uneven gravel, and when the wheel pulled nighty degrees, Lawrence was thrown over the handlebars.

His face, though protected by a digistruct helmet met the coarse earth, and he rolled several metres before crashing into the shrubs against a large boulder. Lawrence gasped for air as the dust settled around him, removing the helmet he spat blood from his mouth and clung to his chest.

"Fu-FUCK!" 

The jarring pain splitting across him was enough to conclude he'd broken a rib. Though there was no time for further complaints. The bike had skidded with him and now sat over his leg. Lawrence kicked at the hunk of metal, cursing louder as the exhaust scorched through his pants. With one last kick he freed himself from the motorcycle but not before it seared into his skin.

Lawrence rolled over; winded and weakened as the dust settled around him. It choked in his lungs and burned his eyes. He coughed on another mouthful of blood and tried to steady his breathing.

He had to move, Lawrence reasoned, he was too vulnerable like this.

Lawrence summoned his sniper crawled on his hands and knees and laid against a boulder. Bandits may have heard the crash; he kept his weapon steady and supported himself on the warm stone behind him. With legs stretched out in the dirt, and his arms  steady he braced himself for an attack.

Lawrence waited, and when nothing met him but the clinking sound of his bike cooling, he rested his eyes. His body ached, though it appeared there was no damage done that could not be fixed with a health kit. Digitising the healing hypo (his last and only one) he pulled the cap off with his teeth, looked away before jamming it into a waiting vein.

He’d not gotten over his fear of needles, despite how many he had shoved in.

A swell of warmth grew up his arm and reached his chest. Lawrence grunted at the manifestation of itchiness and discomfort originating from the health-kit. At least he knew the damn thing was working. Waiting to be healed, Lawrence's hands twitched impatiently at his sides. It did not escape him the removed weight from his left wrist.

It was so minimal, the watch, but he felt it's absence all the same.

He relaxed the rest of his body into the boulder and closed his eyes. The sniper laid heavy in his lap, and his fingers traced the engraving across the side. Jack will take him back, the man had nothing now. 

Nisha was gone, Angel too, and judging by their last phone call the Vault hunters were wearing him down. Jack resembled a man at his wit's end. 

Something nudged at his foot, and Lawrence's eyes flew open.

Meatface and her massive paws were scratching at the earth next to him.

"You," Lawrence hissed, "fucking-little-shit!"

He kicked at the skag, now knowing full well she was responsible for running in front of him and causing the crash. Meatface lowered her front legs, rear wagging as if waiting for him to throw a ball for her.

"FUCK OFF!" Lawrence picked up a nearby stone and threw it at the skag.

She snapped her jaws at him before yelping and jumping away. A moment later she was back, wailing and barking at him to play.

"Fuck this."

Lawrence leaned forward and dug the sniper into his chest, not before releasing a quick shudder of breath from the pain. 

He took aim and fired at the damn thing.

The corrosive round exploded next to her splashing its contents everywhere. Meatface, by some god-bestowed luck missed it all by running around a boulder. Lawrence rested his eye to the scope and was ready for a second shot when he felt his echo buzz.

It was Jack. 

He couldn't take the call. Not now, not when he was in the open. If things were to go south and Jack fired a moonshot, Lawrence would be smoking dust. He shook his head to clear the thought away and sighed. The ringing finally stopped, and Lawrence returned to hunting the skag. 

He was halfway through moving himself up and off the ground when his echo started to buzz again.

"Screw it," he muttered.

He slapped his hand to the device and took the call. It was probably for the best that he gave Jack the heads up that he was returning. 

"Timothy?"

Lawrence almost gagged from hearing the woman's voice; Felicity's voice.

"Timothy? Are you there? We've been trying to reach you for days!"

It was surreal to hear the war AI's voice so strained and almost worried. 

Lawrence opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Timothy?!"

He cleared his throat, "Yeah. I'm here."

"Honestly you have us worried sick! Nyx has been trying relentlessly to reach his brother."

Lawrence dug his fingers into his palms and ignored his echo. He stalked around the boulder still sizzling from the corrosive round and eyed the surrounding bushes carefully. 

"Where is that skag..."

Felicity continued to question him, and Lawrence paid her no mind until a specific name was mentioned. 

"Let me connect Nyx in, he'd like to talk to Crake."

"No!" Lawrence snapped and grabbed the echo from his belt so he could speak into the receiver properly. "I don't - we, don't want to talk to anyone."

"Timothy," Felicity started slowly, "is something wrong? Where are you going?"

Lawrence said nothing and immediately span around looking for the skag. Anything to distract him from the AI's pressing questions. If he hung up the call, it would only raise further concerns, and Angel could merely hack his device and force a connection.

Felicity called his name again, but Lawrence scarcely heard her. His chest was raising erratically, and his hands scratched at his sides.

"Where is Crake? Is he not with you?"

And with that question posed, Lawrence's vision drew to the width of a bullet and his world swam. 

"I...ah...um..." He drew a deep breath, but nothing seemed to bring oxygen to his lungs and clear his vision.

"Timothy?"

There was a tight coiling creature in Lawrence's gut, it twisted at his core and pushed the air from his lungs. He fumbled with the echo and dropped it to the ground.

Where exactly was Crake?

A breath shuddered from his lips, his nails cut his palms, and he stumbled and fell against the nearest boulder.

What had he done?

"Timothy? Are you ok?"

No, he wasn't. He really, really, wasn't ok.

"Where are you? What has happened?"

She queried him over, and over, her authoritative tone dropping to a gentler note that the AI only reserved for Angel.

"I left him behind."

When the words left his mouth the truth became cemented; hard and cold.

Lawrence gagged and felt a surge of bile stir forth. The coiling creature inside of him was ready to slither out, and Lawrence fell to the ground unable to stand for a moment longer.

"Lawrence!" Felicity called. 

"I um...left him behind."

"Crake?"

The AI began to feverishly beckon him to reply, but Lawrence did not have the strength of the will. He stared at the echo through his matted hair, and when he caught sight of Felicity’s anxious and concerned face, he felt a strike of guilt and panic.

Felicity was the uneven stone that brought it all down. All the walls he'd spent building up crashed around him. Years of being Jack, pretending to be something he was not, wearing a mask stained with blood and violence to push everyone away. 

He'd become everything he feared and loathed.

Lawrence drew his knees to his chest, buried his head against himself and screamed.

He'd left his closest friend alone in the middle of nowhere. He told Crake he was pathetic, that there was nothing in his head but broken code.

Lawrence's hands dug into his ankles, and he rocked slowly into the stone behind him.

He could scarcely hear Felicity's voice; so distant everyone felt. The only sound to meet his ears was his own ragged breathing and angry, loud sobs. 

"Where?  _ Where _ did you leave him? Timothy answer me,  _ please _ ."

Lawrence kept his head in his arms, unable to meet her gaze on the echo.

"I don't know," his bottom jaw trembled before a loud hiccup escaped his chest. 

"You need to go back," she frantically spoke. "You cannot leave him behind. Timothy?!" she berated, "Are you listening to me?"

Lawrence sniffed and felt the tears sting his eyes. He wiped a hand across his face and found it covered in wet dirt. 

"Timothy, please, tell us where he is," Felicity whispered. 

"I-I can't, not after this, I-"

"Yes you can and you will!"

Though not needing to, Felicity drew a sharp breath. "I've not told the others yet, do not put me in that position. You will return to Crake, or I'll turn this convey around and get him myself."

"No! Don't tell Nyx! Don't tell them!"

Lawrence scrambled forward and picked up the echo. Felicity's sharp profile stared back at him, lips drawn thin and expression stiff. Yet, her eyes bore a familiar warmth and her tone though still, authoritative was softer.

"You will go to him." The AI did not pose it as a question, and when Lawrence tried to talk back, she spoke again. "On your feet. Crake needs you, and you need him."

Lawrence only stopped his sobbing to stare at her, and with a chin dripping with tears he slowly nodded.

He would go back. Though, lifting the bike and getting back on the road was the simpler tasks ahead of him. Earning Crake's forgiveness, hell just getting the AI to even look at him again would be no easy feat. 

Jack and all his derivatives were a stubborn bunch.

Lawrence started to move, and lean upon the stone. Huffing deeply, and nodding to himself again he reassured himself of the tasks ahead.

However, there was something else he needed to tell the AI. Something far more sinister that had to be known before he could even bear to be in her presence, or any ones for that matter. 

“Felicity I...with Angel...I never planned....to save her,” Lawrence mumbled softly.

His eyes darted shyly away from the echo to the ground. 

The AI did not interrupt, and once Lawrence started his confession, he could not stop. He stuttered his words and tried to explain, but mostly he cried into the echo as he revealed his past.

“I was going to kill her,” Lawrence almost choked, "I was going to fucking murder her and... I don't know... run away? Hope Jack took me back? I don't know," he wept and looked up at the sky blinking blearily.

“Jack left me...at the place...the Bunker for months. I lost it, I thought... I thought taking her away would bring him back, stop his obsession with the key, and with the siren and the Vault. I only wanted to go back to him, to go home.”

Lawrence wiped his hand across his nose and blinked back more tears. Felicity continued to listen, and every feature on her face that had once been cold now softened.

“And then...I saw her...and everything changed.”

He closed his eyes and yearned to bury every memory of the last five years of his life, and every moment which had been tainted by Jack. Worst of all, he wanted to forget his own vile and depraved actions. 

“Felicity…the things I've done. If you knew the half of it...”

“But you didn't do it. You saved Angel."

"It changes nothing... after what I've done..."

"Yes," Felicity said sighing, "it changes nothing, but you do have the chance to reevaluate your future choices starting now."

Lawrence practically whimpered from her judgment and once again avoided making eye contact with his echo. 

After a moments silence, her voice rose to a playful tune, "you’re right, you are awful, but running away will solve nothing. It will only return you to the place you were before you found her.”

Lawrence did not want that. He couldn't go back to being Jack. He had nothing of his old-self left to give, save his name. A name he had to fight to claim back in the most disturbing of ways.

"When you find Crake, please, come back. Angel misses you."

"No," Lawrence blurted out, "no, no, no, I can't. I'm not. Everything I told her at Hollow Point still stands."

"Timothy! Honestly-"

“ _ Look _ at my face! My body! Do you have any idea how many scars I have from him? The poisons I've unwittingly taken, the bullets I've had to lodge out, days of torture and being left to die because EVERYONE thinks I’m him. His own goddamn daughter can’t tell the fucking difference, and neither will the bandits and all of Jack's enemies. MY enemies!”

When he was done Lawrence slumped back and groaned. 

"Angel is safer with me gone, and you know it."

Felicity did not argue back, and Lawrence knew the AI would not fight for his return. She was right to be wary of him, after everything he had just said. She knew Angel's future was brighter without him painting it red.

Lawrence ran his hands down his scarred and ruined face, wiping aware years worth of tears. Tears he was not allowed to spill, emotions he could not bear, and confessions never allowed to be uttered. 

He was going to take this one step at a time; first, find his friend. Then deal with whatever fallout Jack would bestow on him and the land for not returning. 

Lawrence resigned that he'd better get good at dodging moonshots. 

* * *

He parked the bike and sprinted to the spot where he and Crake had last parted. The remnants of the fire lingered as ash, the earth undisturbed, but as Lawrence dropped to his knees, he could not see the watch. Spreading his hands forth he carefully began to move the sand away.

It had to be here, Crake had to be here.

"CRAKE!"

He called, hoping the AI may have connected to his echo, and as the watch remained out of sight Lawrence grew frantic. His hands swept into the sand, pulling up the shrubs, eager to see that faint teal glow of the watch.

"Where are you?"

Lawrence wiped a hand down his angular face and leaned forward to rest on his knees. Meatface sat by his side; she had run the entire way back, and though Lawrence wanted to drive ahead, he kept a steady pace so she could keep up. He figured he owed the skag an apology and so he pressed his fingers along the spines of her back and petted her.

It was only when Meatface was nudging at his side did the beast unearth the sand to reveal a faint glow under her paws. 

"Got you," he snatched the watch from under the skag and swiped at the surface.

Nothing happened.

"Crake?" Lawrence called as he checked his echo. The receiver was on, and the watch had connected to it, yet, Crake did not respond.

"Crake," Lawrence reiterated his name, his voice breaking this time. "I...um, I came back, see?" 

He frantically swiped at the watch again, and again.

"CRAKE!" Lawrence begged, "please, fuck. I am so sorry. Please come out."

He could do nothing but cradle the watch in his hands, hoping the AI would answer his pleas. 

But Crake didn't answer him. Not at the cycle's end or its beginning

Lawrence set up camp again, checked the parameter, rechecked it, threw rocks for Meatface all while anxiously fidgeting with the watch now adorned on his left wrist. 

He practised hunting by himself. The shots that landed scarcely scrapped their target and Lawrence wasted half his ammo stubbornly trying to take on a moving target. When he finally claimed another skag Meatface ran off and devoured the kill before he could consider skinning it.

The cycle was coming to an end, and still, Crake was absent. Lawrence sat on the ground and aimless poked at the fire, turning the coals over to watch them spark. He did not know if Crake was listening in, but he found himself talking nonetheless. 

"I'm sorry, I know I fucked up, I fucked up so bad."

Lawrence groaned and kicked his feet restlessly, earning him a growl from Meatface on his lap. 

"I told you that you never knew me," he muttered, "and I guess that's true...I owe you the truth," he murmured aloud. "I owe you a lot." 

Crake remained silent, and Meatface yawned.

Lawrence patted the beast, and she made a sound that grated on his ears, though he assumed it was her way of expressing her contentment. The damn thing was as dumb as fully functioning claptrap, already forgetting the brutality he had shown her a cycle earlier.

But Crake had not forgotten, and so Lawrence decided to tell him who he was, or rather, who he had been.

"I was five or so when my Dad ran out, he left for another family, as would my mother after my death. I mean, I guess I can't blame her for that. I was dead." Lawrence jabbed the stick harder into the coals eliciting a new wave of sparks. 

Jack loved fire. Lawrence assumed he'd fear it after being burnt so viciously. But Jack and his twisted mind saw it as a tool to brand his own army; himself included.

Lawrence growled, disturbed how his mind always trailed back to Jack. He tried to return to his story, though, it was just as sad and pathetic as the rest of his life.

"My first girlfriend was in college, her name was Rachel." Lawrence let his hands trace around the spines on Meatface's head. A smile curled on his lips, she was good for him, but it did not last.

"We met through a Bunkers and Badasses campaign, I kinda proposed to her in-game. It was just part of the campaign, but it was awkward as hell. She asked me out for real afterwards." 

Lawrence cursed, "I was fucking awkward as shit. I took her to a late-night-diner for our date, cause I couldn't afford anything else. I was too nervous to take her anywhere cool. I was afraid if I let on too much she'd run away. It was easier to pretend in-game."

Lawrence grimaced. "Guess I'm good at pretending."

In an attempt to forget his own past, Lawrence turned to an image that was not real.

"Crake, I reckon you would've been one of the tall, dark, mysterious guys at uni, the one every wants to talk to and know his story, but are too scared to ask."

Lawrence smiled at the absurd image. Crake with a backpack and supplies, waiting in line for coffee, living a mundane life without lasers and violence. Lawrence felt a heat rise up his neck, and he gathered he was sitting too close to the fire.

"Fuck, I was always so predictable," he grimaced again, thinking of every other 'guy' at uni he had 'seen'.

"Every guy I crushed on was just another Handsome Jack. Tall, loud, and owned the room they walked. Everyone wanted to be them, or fuck them." Lawrence sighed, "but I never pursued them, I was just a 'Timothy Lawrence'."

He couldn't talk anymore, his throat burned and he found himself blinking stupidly at the fire. Every time a new wave of flames claimed the air he thought it was Crake appearing at his side.

He asked Crake to come out, and when he didn't Lawrence resigned that he would not ask again.

Night had finally claimed the land of Pandora and thankfully aligned with the end of the cycle. He turned restlessly in his swag, still staring at the red glow of the coals, forever hoping the source of light was something other than the dying fire.

Lawrence didn't have night terrors any more, but the dreams he did have were rarely pleasant. He groaned at the sickly feeling across his forehead. Sweat inundated his clothes, and a heavy anchor stirred restlessly in his chest.

What if Crake was actually gone? Found a way to connect to the outside world and just...left.

Lawrence rolled away from the fire and shifted his hand over the face of the watch. He wanted to summon Crake, and he almost did, but he couldn't bear the thought of meeting more rejection and silence.

That morning Crake remained just as silent.

Lawrence had no one, but the skag at his feet, no home but the camp he had made for himself. He tried to eat, but his appetite was gone. Maybe if he hurt himself, just a little, Crake would come? But what if he didn't appear? What if he really had left?

"Crake?" Lawrence called again and got no reply. 

He resigned to telling more of his story. How his creative writing teacher had told him an AI could produce more artistic and imaginative work than the dribble he submitted.

"Why not try programming? You clearly want to write...that may be better suited to your...skill set." The older woman had lectured dryly, and Lawrence followed her advice.

Six years later, with more debt and jobless, he turned to a fake piece of paper that would see him at Hyperion. 

Hindsight was a bitch. 

"Crake, if you were at uni, I think you'd be..." Lawrence paused, would he be a paramedic because he knew how to cauterise a wound? Or would he be some kind of consultant because of the knowledge he had on the field?

A terrible feeling of guilt and shame curdled inside of him. Lawrence realised he had no idea what Crake's interests were, save the roles he'd been given as a battle drone; battle and medical support.

Did Crake like music? Games? Theatre? Photography?

He liked Chess. He knew that.

Lawrence felt the weight on his chest grow with every moment Crake remained silent. For over five years the AI had been with him and not once did Lawrence ask him anything about himself. 

How the fuck could he have been so selfish? So blind sighted. 

"Fuck!" Lawrence abruptly dropped to the ground causing Meatface to recoil.

He cursed again, and if he yelled any louder he may not have heard the ringing from his echo. The sound blared across the empty lands, and Lawrence did not draw breath as he unlatched the device and held it forth.

His heart was pounding in his throat, adrenaline twisting his stomach in knots. He realised he was rocking back and forth and worrying his lip, all the nervous tics and twitches he thought he had weeded out.

It was Jack calling. Not Crake, not Felicity, or Angel or anyone else who may have possessed a slither of humanity towards him. 

Lawrence was so fucking tired of being alone, so tired of this desperation, this weakness. If he played the role he was meant to, the obedient dog; then Jack could provide routines, security, safety and comfort. Lawrence rested his palm on the echo, he was moments away from swiping to accept the call when a voice as strained as his own spoke behind him.

"Do not answer that," a red glow illuminated onto the echo-comm.

Lawrence dropped the device and spun around, "Crake?"

His palms scraped across the ground as he anxiously made his way to his feet. Lawrence blinked slowly, to remove any chance Crake was an illusion. Isolation in the Pandora wastelands had a funny way of doing that.

It was him, Crake was actually here. He stood arms crossed, shoulders squared and his eyes ablaze. The way he bowed his head, yet kept his eyes level with Lawrence gave dread a reason to stir within him. 

Lawrence stumbled forward. "I'm… ah, god dammit, fuck, I'm so sorry. Crake, please, I'm so fucking sorry."

When he took another step closer, Crake took one back.

"Crake?" his voice was scratchy, itching in desperation. "Please don't go back into the watch. Please don't leave me."

* * *

Crake's eyes darted to the echo on the ground and back up to Tim. His only friend, save for his brother, had thrown him away like a used battery. Left him to rust and break down in the Pandora Wastes like he was nothing.

"You mean don't leave you, like you left me?" Crake spat out bitterly and if he could feel pressure, he was sure his jaw would be aching from how tight he kept it. 

There was fury building within his core that he had not felt the likes of since he was released from his AI laws. A choice made for him without his consent or his input. Perpetually, being forced to play a role he didn't ask for.

"I,  um, I'm-"

Crake cut off Tim's pathetic plea, he'd heard enough excuses from him. 

“An eternity of isolation, forever bound to a damn watch, in the middle of nowhere!" Crake stretched his arm out and pointed at the dirt where Tim had so thoughtlessly cast him away. 

"I had no way of reaching out! I HAD NO ONE! You may choose to be left to wither and die alone, but how dare you force that on me!"

"Crake, I-"

"I am not a slave for you to call upon when it suits you! To toss aside when my 'purpose' is done! After EVERYTHING we've been through!"

"I'M SORRY!" Tim screamed and fell back to his knees. "I'm so sorry, godammit Crake, fuck, please I'm so sorry." 

Crake watched Tim at his feet, shaking and confused, eyes glistening suspiciously and then it occurred to him that Tim was crying. Crake had never seen him shed a tear without a physical injury to cause the pain; Jack had conditioned such responses from him years ago.

Tim's hands hung at his sides as he drew a shaken breath and stared up at him. Eyes red and raw, rocking on the ground alone. Tim looked as broken as he did after the searing. He'd been alone in the hospital, terrified, sick and so lonely he summoned Crake and Nyx to break the isolation. Crake remembered it, and worst of all, he remembered not caring. It did not matter that he was not able to or that he was only a battle drone at the time. He had failed to act when he was needed the most.

But he could act now, Crake reasoned.

"Please, don't go again, please, don't go," Tim was mumbling to himself, and tears tracked down his dust-covered face. He glanced up, and Crake felt every part of his being recoil in guilt. Tim looked like he was ready to beg for his life, just as he did with Jack.

Crake's exterior crumbled, and he clenched his fists together resigning the blind fury that had consumed him a moment ago. 

“You don’t want to end up like  _ him _ on that echo,” Crake pointed to the still vibrating echo on the ground. “Bitter and friendless asshole. He has no-one, and you have so much. Don’t throw it away by acting like an asshole to people who care.”

The echo seized its buzzing, and the screen finally went dark again. 

“Jack...he's...he’s every I had,” Tim said weakly and bowed his head against his chest.

“Not anymore, Lawrence. Stop hiding behind such pathetic excuses.”

"But the treatment?"

"We will find another way. There has to be another way other than through  _ him _ ."

Crake had refused to say Jack's name, that monster did not deserve to have it uttered ever again. Sighing, he stepped forward and lowered himself to Tim's level on the ground. He did not know if he was welcomed, as Crake had never been good at reading human emotions, and so his movements were hesitant and slow as he rested a hand on Tim's shoulder. Crake was relieved when he did not tremble or pull away. 

"You broke my AI laws because you were terrified of the fate he was going to force on you." Crake said slowly, "You gave me a job, to protect you from that, remember?"

"I also gave you free will," Tim muttered, finally pulling his head up to meet his gaze. "You don't need to do anything for me. Especially now." 

"But I  _ will _ ," Crake grounded.

_ Because I care. _

Tim only sniffed loudly and chewed on his lip, before looking directly at Crake with wide, red eyes and Crake found himself terrified with what he wanted to do. Tim had told him to stop interfering, to not hover, and lecture. Crake did not want to be driven away again, and yet he did not want to leave Tim's side. 

Not that he needed to, he took a deep breath and inched closer. 

His hand was on Tim's shoulder, though he could not touch him he still sensed his presence through the watch. Crake had rarely been afraid, save for Tim's life at the hands of Jack and Tania and for being driven away. However, as he raised his other hand and took Tim in his arms, he felt fear like he had never felt before.

Fear of being rejected, and fear of being tossed aside.

Tim shuddered from the static embrace, he choked before bending in half and crying into his lap. He wailed loud, angry sobs and shook against the ground. Crake held him and listened to Tim's rattled breathing and sensed his racing heart.

"Everything is fucked, I've ruined  _ everything _ ," Tim cried. 

"You’ve outdone yourself this time," Crake whispered, and Tim stifled another sob with a laugh.

"I don't like ultimatums," Crake growled in the softness manner possible, "but if you ever, EVER toss that watch again and leave me with no way out, I will hunt you down and give you another Atlas Hello that will make Tania's handiwork seem like a fucking manicure."

Tim laughed louder and pulled his head up to meet Crake's face once again. 

"I wouldn't put it passed you."

"Good." Crake nodded. He did not like seeing Tim like this, so defeated and miserable, but Crake would need time to forgive his actions.

"And if I ever get a body, I'm allowed to beat you senselessly for your idiocy, and for acting so callous. I really wish I could now, but shooting you with my laser seems counterproductive."

Despite Crake's harsh words, Tim only softly chuckled. The tears had left dark stains down his face, mixed in with the dust and such bloodshot eyes he looked a mess. 

"I promise I’ll never put you in the position that requires you 'beating me senseless' again."

Crake nodded and leaned forward and held his friend again. There was some part deep at his core, at the heart of his code that told him to never forgive, to never forget. But Crake knew that was only 'Jack' talking, and he was not that man, and with time maybe Tim wouldn't be him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now that Timmy met rock bottom I can finally build this terrible person back up into something decent and not a savagely burnt cinnamon bun. :D
> 
> WITH THAT SAID....WOLF AMONG WOLVES WILL GO ON HOLD FOR A BIT
> 
> yup! I graduate from uni in just over a month and I need to knuckle down and get my work done. (I’m trying to graduate with a HD/D average :O and I’m so close! ) On top of that I work retail and I’m head of Graphics for our gradshow, so lots of fun non-paid, or assessed work there :D But, hey, its all for that folio ;)
> 
> I think I’ve left the story in a good place for a break. There may be one more update, but who knows when that is. I just don’t want to get into the next story ark and leave it on a cliff hanging.
> 
> *cue keyboard smash* THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT GAAAAAHHH YOU’RE ALL THE BEST :D 
> 
>  
> 
> And thanks to [Eternal-Garbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who added in something somewhere in this chapter. 
> 
> As always comments make my day, Xxx
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	35. Becoming Jack Part VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnnddd I'm BACK! Last assignment was handed in yesterday and man what week, or month. I pulled two all-nighters in my final week, and at one point I stayed awake for over 32 hours. But it was all worth it. I'm graduating with honours! wooooo! Now its summer, and the job hunt begins but i finally have the time to write.
> 
> Thank you for your patience. i hope you enjoy this massive 8.5 k chapter! 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment ;)

A dog, a man and woman, stood at the end of the alley.

The canine was some kind of retriever. Its golden matted fur stuck out at all angles, and the damn thing whined and carried on. Whether it was tormented by its long confinement or from the distress of its owners, Lawrence did not know. 

The woman was young, perhaps late 20's. She'd long stopped sobbing and gone quiet, maybe she'd resigned that her fate was sealed?

And the man.

He was the worst of the lot, stubborn, and proud to the end. He yelled curses at them, told them to shove their demands up their asses and basically had little to no dignity left in the matter. It sickened Lawrence that this stupid old fool had put the lives of his pet and sole living family member on the chopping block. All because he wouldn't sign a single document. 

Although, that document would hand over all of Atlas to Jack, and by extension Lawrence as well. Despite it all, the fact remained, the Atlas CEO was a coward.

"I've got the dog," Nisha sang as she pulled away from the scope on her rifle.

Lawrence glanced along their targets one last time; three marks and three shooters. He reasoned he should take the woman. Jack had terrible aim, and he'd only prolong her suffering if he picked her. 

"The chick is mine," Lawrence claimed, and Jack beamed.

"Old coot is for me then, but let's take one last shot at this, ok? Hero's need to show mercy, am I right?"

Jack kicked open the safety gate and marched into the firing arena. He'd not made it any more than a few steps before the old man freed himself from his gag and started screaming, or rather, demanding.

Lawrence growled low, a bitter taste already in his mouth from seeing such a pathetic display. The CEO  _ should _ be begging.

The Atlas CEO was a fool, and somehow he was still under the impression that the law applied here; Helios was in the border region. Ungoverned by the UGAN, with no laws, juries or judges the CEO was at Handsome Jack's mercy. 

He just hadn't realised that yet.

"The deed to Atlas, sign it over, and you and your darlings are free to go," Jack swept a dramatic arm forward and gestured to the chained dog and woman.

The Atlas CEO's sole child and pet. 

"You're bloody insane! I'd never!"

"Gahhhhh!" Jack groaned, bending in half and cursed. "WHY!? Do you have to force my hand like this!? THEY can live, YOU can live, just sign over the damn deed, champ."

When the CEO remained defiant, Jack steadied himself, stood upright and turned to Lawrence. Those bi-coloured eyes met his, and without a word, Lawrence knew the command; execute.

He leaned forward, eyes on his mark and shot the woman between the eyes. Nisha quickly followed suit and killed the dog by emptying her entire clip into the animal. Brain matter and bloodied fur smeared down the far wall. The wet sound of gore was only heard for a moment before a scream drowned out all other sound.

The Atlas CEO's cries were barely comprehensible. Shock, agony, and maybe guilt, rang through his voice.

Jack ignored this display of raw human emotion and closed the distance between them. He shoved a scanner in front of the grieving man and the CEO obliged, signing away his retina and finger scans over to Jack.

"You could have been the hero, you could have prevented this if you'd just given me the damn deed."

"You-you won't get away with this, you can't! They'll be con-"

"I already have."

Jack raised his weapon and shot him point blank. With their work done for the evening, Lawrence drew away from the range and leaned against the railing. Nisha's skin was flushed, lips wet and eyes alight; blood and violence always got her in a mood. 

"Come on," he snaked a hand around her waist, "let's get him home."

They left the firing range and wandered back to their apartment. Nisha's hands were already on his belt before the door slid open. After that, the rest of the weekend became a haze. She had left both of them bent out of shape. Whenever she was in the fray, she was the one on top, and Jack and Lawrence just took what she dished out. 

The number of coloured stimulants that had gone up his nose, dropped in his eye, shot in his veins and down his throat was immeasurable. The hangover thankfully swift thanks to whatever Jack had ordered from R&D as the three of them were needed to make an appearance.

A Gala celebrating Handsome Jack's acquisition of Atlas.

Lawrence would have rather spent the evening in bed, but they all had their roles to play. Sighing he ran his hands down the intricate woven tie, before looping it around Jack's neck and fixing it under the collar.

“All this power and wealth and you can’t even tie your own tie,” Lawrence mocked at the man in front of him.

“I know how to strangle people with it so you just, you know, keep talking, Timmy,” Jack said sweetly and flashed a predatory smile.

Lawrence just puckered his lips and fixed the knot, stepping away for a moment to admire his handiwork. Next was the custom-made Hyperion pin. Jack ordered two for the both of them. It was golden and inlaid with small moonstones around the edge. Tacky, just like Jack liked it

“How’s that girdle fitting, Pretzel?” Nisha’s voice came from the bedroom, and the next moment she revealed herself, dressed in a shimmering dark purple cocktail dress, neck full of rare stones that Jack dumped on her through the years.

Jack scoffed, and Lawrence snorted, earning him a glare.

“If we weren’t heading out I would-"

"You'd what?" Lawrence replied bored. Without Jack's loaders, the CEO wasn't even in the same league as Nisha and he in hand-to-hand. The two of him would have him pinned and tied to the bed in a matter of seconds. 

“Boys, calm down,” Nisha picked up a small Hyperion camera from the table. “Huddle up so I can take a shot of this man sandwich for later,” her tone became silky, and her eyes were very promising.

Lawrence never liked to be photographed. He had to override that feeling when in public but in confinement of their home he did not have to pretend. Firstly, he never knew what to do with his hands, so he awkwardly stuck them in his pockets. He pulled a bright smile, but as he felt Jack’s hand coiling around his waist, his expression became shy, and he could do nothing about it.

Nisha grabbed the developed picture, gazed down and bit her lip, eyes ablaze. She hummed pleased before she disappeared into the bedroom to apply the rest of the makeup.

Lawrence walked over to the bed and picked up the small Polaroid. Jack looked like Jack and him? He looked... happy. There was no trace of tension like on all the other photos snapped of them before. This was new, and something stirred in him, a feeling so long forgotten he did not have a name for it anymore.

Jack had found his way over to his side, and Lawrence held the photo forward so his other half could see the picture. When he made no comment, he gave Jack a sideways glance. Jack wasn't looking at the photo, his gaze was fixed on him. 

He knew that look, and if Lawrence didn't put an end to it soon the entire process of getting ready would be utterly wasted. 

Though, said intentions were hard to follow through when Jack’s fingers were already tracing his favourite spot; right along the side of his jaw. He raised a brow at the tender affection, gaining him a growl in return. Jack was never this soft for long, and true to his assessment his hands curled around Lawrence's back, tugging on his shirt and pulling it out from his belt. A shiver flushed down his spine, and Lawrence found himself closing in on the other man.

"What do you want, Jack?" Lawrence murmured against his other half's throat, eliciting another growl of impatience.

He knew precisely what Jack wanted, but it didn't stop him from suggesting every that came to mind. Words so dirty that even Nisha would blush.

And Jack loved it.

"Come here, Timmy."

Jack buried his hands into Lawrence's ass, kneading the flesh and pulling them together. Their lips met in a long needy kiss.

Jack moaned when Lawrence told him to bend him over and fuck him into the mattress, or better yet, onto the floor of the firing range they had left a day previously. Their lips remained locked together, kisses harsh and impatient as Jack's hands fumbled to remove the belt. 

It took scarcely seconds for them to end up on the bed with Lawrence's shirt pulled open, belt undone and cock out. 

If there had been hungry look in Jack's eyes before then he was utterly starving now. Jack sat above him, lips mouthing at Lawrence's toned and scarred flesh, starting at his navel until his nose was buried in the curls that ran down to his groin. Jack was rarely in the giving mood, and so Lawrence wasn't going to protest even if his perfectly fashioned outfit was taking a hit.

"You have no idea what people would give for this," Jack breathed out slowly. His teeth scraped against Lawrence's now very erect cock, causing him to grit his teeth and curl his hands into the sheets. 

"To have this privilege," Jack said with another teasing slip of his lips.

Lawrence whined and arched his back and hips to try and meet Jack’s mouth once again.

"You just don't know how lucky you are, Timmy. Everything I do for you, for us."

Lawrence gripped the linen and breathed out slowly. Jack was taking too damn long and talking too frickin much and so, the second Jack’s lips curled over his cock he grabbed Jack by the hair and pushed himself all the way down the man's throat.

Jack claimed he could take dick like a champ. Both Nisha and Lawrence liked to test that theory (It was often proven wrong).

Lawrence’s moan of pleasure was cut off with a grunt. He hissed under his breath as Jack’s teeth got dangerously close. Jack’s hand curled over Lawrence's fisted palm pressing them both into the mattress. Giving head was not one of Jack's specialities, but he got points for effort. 

"I can hear you to at it!" Nisha called, but it had little to no effect on Jack's enthusiasm.

Jack’s tongue curled over the slit of Lawrence's cock as his head bobbed up and down. Lawrence's other hand had not escaped Jack's hair, and every time he tried to move up for air Lawrence refused; shoving him back down to the hilt and thrusting deep. 

"Boys, as hungry as I am, this man-sandwich was meant to be desert."

Lawrence turned his gaze towards her, and a sly grin stretched across his masked features as her nails drummed impatiently on the doorway.

"Wha?" Jack's lips pulled away from him, and Lawrence groaned at the loss of contact. 

"Bar. Let's move it."

Jack rolled his eyes at the terse demand yet faithfully obliged. He sat up, delivered a peck to Lawrence's lips and slipped off the bed. Lawrence cursed loudly; knowing full well he'd have to finish himself off. Jack quickly glanced in the mirror, fixed his hair before sweeping Nisha off her feet. With his face buried in her breasts, he carried her out the door.

Listening to the two of them laugh as they left the apartment Lawrence sighed and began to jerk himself off. Nisha always got her Jack when she wanted, and she wanted a lot. Hopefully, she'd be shipping back down to Pandora in the morning. He turned his attention back on himself, breathing heavily he climaxed, cleaned himself up and hastily shoved his dress shirt back into his pants and fixed his belt. 

They were always late to their own parties. Or rather, he was. 

In addition to being the last 'Jack' to arrive, Lawrence was a dishevelled messed, high, and late. Which only ensured he was more Jack than the original. The crowd cheered and parted for him, thinking that their ‘real’ CEO had finally arrived.

He waved them off and entered the fray. Making his way to the back, he pushed aside every damn slithering corporate weasel who just wanted a second of his time. Sparing only a moment to flash a bright smile for the cameras, or to tell some kid to follow their dreams.

Finally, he made it to the back quarters where he was meant to be; at Jack's side. It was a first, of hopefully many occasions for him to be allowed out of the shadows and exposed next to Jack as one and the same.

Ever since Jack invested in the pocket watch program Lawrence's responsibilities as an 'acting' double grew less, and his role as 'Handsome Jack' grew. Seeing to meetings, addressing R&D reports, signing off new weapon lines; he did it all.

While the sole purpose of the pocket doubles was to act as a decoy. A target for their ever-growing list of enemies. Many of them were here tonight, and Lawrence was thankful that if things went south, then fewer bullets would end up inside of him.

To the outside world, there was no body double, save for the ones who wore the watches. Who, unlike him, could return to their lives at a moments notice. 

Lawrence eventually passed the threshold of their security and entered their area reserved for upper management and the likes. Save for his other half, he was the only additional 'Jack' in the reservation. The rest of the met were being dazzled and blinded by the pocket Jack's. Too eager to meet their hero to know any better. 

Lawrence beelined for the bar and was served immediately. He need not put in an order they knew what to prepare.

He eyed Jack in the corner who looked utterly bored listening to the dribble his "board" were expressing. The title of 'board member' was purely fictional to satisfy investors. Jack's attention was a mere courtesy and would not last a moment longer when the high he was running on died.

Lawrence received his old fashion and started to move to take Jack for himself. He'd not taken a step further when a voice identical to his own - which should have been impossible because Jack was in front of him -  spoke behind him.

"Sir."

Lawrence knew that intonation, it was M. The leader of the pocket watch doubles and the most insufferable, dry cunt of them all. Lawrence's gritted his teeth and closed his eyes before pulling a glowing smile and turning around. 

"Kiddo, M, look at you sneaking back here. What can I do for you." There was a lingering threat in Lawrence's words, and the pocket double was sharp enough not to miss it. 

M glanced at Jack before his eyes settled on him, concluding Lawrence was the man warranting his attention. Lawrence had no idea how the prick managed it, but M had worked out how to tell Jack and him apart. There were very few people who even knew Lawrence existed and even fewer who could spot the difference. Yet, somehow, this little shit had worked it out in under four months of his employment when it still baffled Meg. 

The guy had some kind of sixth sense it utterly pissed Lawrence off, so when M decided to directly approach him, Lawrence shoved his empty glass in the man's hand and told him 'run along' keeping in character in case anyone overheard. A well earned 'fuck off', and a decent glassing to the face is what he'd much rather do. 

"Sir, another double tried to-

"Save it, pumpkin, file it in a report for me to see in the morning." He clicked his tongue and made for the bar again, but when something snagged his coat Lawrence bit down so hard, he drew blood.

His hand hovered over his holster. It was the only legit weapon in the vicinity save for Jack's. No one was allowed to be armed around them, not even their human security. Jack only trusted the AI's he coded personally to carry a weapon. 

"I will shoot you where you stand if you touch me again." 

M straightened up but did not flinch from the threat. The double opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, thankfully resigning to defeat, but not before every eye settled onto the two of them. A low rumble of whispers spread across the room as the crowd watched the two Jack's stare each other down. There was a reason why Lawrence despised open conversations with another double, it outed him as their kind.

He could not defend Jack if he was marked as a copy and he suspected that was M's game all along. Somehow the pocket double had got it in his head that they were on the same playing field, that there was a slither of power shared between them.

There was not.

"Back to your station, and deal with it."

"I don't have the authority," M spoke evenly, "but you do."

_ And so does Jack. _ But M wouldn't go to the real Jack, no, he had to come to him. Lawrence swallowed down the blood swelling in his mouth before addressing the double again.

"Show me."

M gave a curt nod and left the reservation with Lawrence reluctantly trailing behind him. He had a good idea of what he was going to be lead to, what he needed to do, and why. But it didn't still the fire licking inside of him. 

The roar of celebrations became a soft echo as they entered the empty halls of Helios. M scanned an entrance on their right and led him to what Lawrence would call the gallows; passages below Jack and Lawrence's office. After a few more twists and turns they came upon a cell, and there, handcuffed against a pipe against the far wall was another Handsome Jack. Though this one had his head bowed and there was no mistaking the sound of soft sobs escaping his chest.

M leaned down and removed the pocket watch from the other double's chest. The image fizzled momentarily before revealing a young blond haired man. Face covered in tears, eyes blackened and chin swollen, he raised his head and whispered one word.

"Please..."

Lawrence ignored him and turned to M.

"You do this?"

M nodded, and Lawrence sighed.

Some of the double's got a little too high on power, others ran for it when they couldn't handle the job. All of them needed to be pulled back in line, and it was not a job for the faint-hearted. It wasn't the first time M had sought him out to help 'deal' with it, or rather fire a weapon into someone's temple. 

"What did he do?" Lawrence drawled.

"The report is already on your desk, I just need you to carry out the order."

Lawrence had done this many times before, and it was always the same. M wouldn't even flinch when gazing down at death, he'd just stare at the blood as it pooled. Yet, somehow he was utterly unable to pull the trigger.

That had to change.

Jack forbade others from having weapons, but Lawrence's patience with this rule was spent. He unholstered his gun and at the same time grabbed M by the sleeve. This startled the double - a rarity -and Lawrence knew he would save this moment for some time.

His nails dug into M's wrists as he forced them to curl over the leather grip of the pistol.

M spoke swiftly, eyes darting from the man on his knees to the gun in his hand. "You can't make me do this. I don't have the authority,  _ you _ don't have the authority, only the  _ real _ Handsome-"

Lawrence squeezed M's hand and made him pull the trigger. The shot was at close range covering them both in the gore from the ex-double head. Pieces of skull dropped down the wall as the body remained chained and suspended by the wrist to the pipe. 

"Congratulations on your first Hyperion sponsored kill. The doubles are yours to take care of. No exceptions."

"And you? Sir?"

Lawrence kicked away the dead man's leg so he could linger closer to M.

"I'm Handsome Jack. You  _ ever _ approach me with work business of this matter again, and it will be you chained to the wall. We understand each other,  _ kiddo _ ?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Lawrence spat out and wiped away the mangled flesh from his suit. "Clean this up, and keep them in line. I don't need an incident like this happening every fricken week."

"Yes, sir."

M turned the weapon he'd been bestowed with slowly in his hands. Lawrence wordlessly left the newly armed double to stare blankly down at the dead man at his feet. He was at a sprinting pace by the time he made it back to the music, and cheer. The Gala had not stopped in his absence, and Lawrence fumed at the thought of leaving Jack undefended for so long.

Half his night wasted,  _ what a fucking useless piece of- _

His train of thought dissolved as Nisha caught his eye. The entire crowd parted as she sauntered over, hips swaying in a captivating motion. 

"Babe, you're wearing that same look when you're trying to endure one of Jack's 'one of a kind BJ's."

"My cock in a blender is often more inviting than Jack's mouth," Lawrence commented sourly. 

"What did Emmy-boy want?" Her eyes lingered over the dark stains on his black suit.

"The usual," Lawrence hissed under his breath and snatched another glass from a wandering dish. "If I wanted their godman issues heard I would have reinstated the HR department."

She sucked on her teeth and made an irritable sound. "That one is too proud to do a runner."

"If only," Lawrence nodded, "hunting him would be bloody fun."

"More fun for you I think."

He couldn't argue with that. Contemplating how M could spar against he and Nisha was something Lawrence could only hope for. The guy was too self obsessed with his work to ever flee. M got off on power, rules, and rituals. Lawrence just needed to make sure he stayed in line. 

"Where's Jack got to?" Lawrence asked, eyes scouting ahead. 

"Oh, prancing around, I think he wants to do a live demonstration of an Atlas prototype he's now acquired."

"Great," he added dryly, "everyone knows I'm a double now, he shouldn't be waving guns around, if something happens -"

"That's an easy thing to fix."

Nisha hooked an arm around his waist, grabbed him by the tuff of his hair and pulled his open mouth down on hers. She was as passionate about her kisses as she was with her gun. Her lips smothered his, tongue slipping in and hands curling in his hair.

When she pulled away, he was lost for breath, and acutely aware that everyone was staring at them.

"Now they won't think you're the double."

Lawrence beamed and kept Nisha close. 

"Drink? Or is it time again for something stronger?"

"Much stronger" she purred, nails hooking under his chin to bring his lips close to her again. "Come on. Lead the way,  _ Jack _ ."

The buzzing sensation had not dwindled when they returned from the passage behind the bar. Nisha wiped the back of her palm against her nose and sniffed loudly. Lawrence kept a hand around her waist, his own nose buried in her hair. Taking in her scent; every smell so defined, and intoxicating. Burnt wood, gunpowder and the smell of dried grass; that was Nisha. 

"Handsome Jack, sir!" A voice boomed.

Lawrence almost yelped from having the sound rocket through his head. Nisha giggled, a strange sound to come from the Lawbringer. He vaguely recognised the owner of the voice as one of their board members. The same man who’d been earlier talking to Jack. Lawrence pulled a smile that was likely too sloppy on the edges and raised his glass. He did not bother to offer his hand.

"Let me introduce to you your newest and brightest upcoming closer. Or so I hope" The board member boomed once again. Lawrence blinked slowly trying to comprehend who the board member was talking about, it wasn’t until a younger man was shoved in front of him did Lawrence focus his gaze.

“My son, Rhys Myers.”

The pale skinny kid’s eyes blew out as they landed on him.

"But who am I to say!? I'll let you be the judge of that." The bearded man bellowed again and shoved 'Reese' closer. The kid's expression though determined kept falling into a pout. Eyes shyly looking back at his father and then to Lawrence. He avoided Nisha's gaze altogether, and he didn't blame him. So much as a glance at her warranted a bullet to the knee. Jack rarely showed restraint when it came to her.

"Well, I'll seek out a drink for you both." The board member clasped his hands together. "Can't have an empty hand tonight, not while we celebrate this win. To think, that Atlas is all ours."

"Mine, I think you mean mine," Lawrence drawled and tugged at Nisha to curl into him some more.

The board member said nothing to that and turned on heel to make for the bar. 

"Finally," the kid drawled much akin to how Lawrence just had. Reese offered his hand, and Lawrence eyed it for a moment before resigning he'd indulge the kid. The mere contact of another on his skin was electricity, and it took all of his conviction to keep a straight face. 

Lawrence cleared his throat and placed his hand back around Nisha.

Reese's soft brown eyes looked him up and down, neck stretched up as if he was trying to get some height on him. The black ink of a tattoo caught Lawrence's eye, and he swore he saw it twitch against the man's skin. For a moment he wanted to yank down the collar and see if it had moved. Or if the ink covered the rest of his pretty pink flesh. 

Nisha as if reading his thoughts purred into his ear. 

"Shall we invite him round back?"

"Just a moment," Lawrence replied nuzzling his nose against her. As pretty as the thing in front of him was, he wasn't going to waste his time on a kid with all looks and no brains. That was more Jack's thing.

"Handsome Jack, sorry about that. Dad can be... pretty forward."

"No worries kiddo," Lawrence grinned and looked at the bar.

"Name's Rhys."

"Right." Lawrence kept his eyes ahead. Jack was lingering close by waving a gun around no less. Still, intent on blowing off some energy. They had time, Lawrence reasoned, before Jack would find them and demand a more private audience.

"So  _ Reese _ , how'd you managed to swing your way in here? Don't tell me Daddy did all the work?"

Nisha chuckled lightly next to him, and they both indulged in the flush of pink that ran up the kid's neck. Now Lawrence  _ really _ wanted to know what was under that collar.

"I guess, you just have to use what assets you have to move somewhere." Reese gave him a self-satisfied grin and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Hmmm, I'm sure having your pockets lined in credits, and your family licking my heels helps a little bit?"

Jack's past was not celebrated, nor was it common knowledge. All evidence of his bandit upbringing and Pandora granny was swept into the darkest reaches of the echo-net. His own life may have not been as grim and bitter as Jack's, but they both had one thing in common. Parents who never wanted nor loved them, and a future that demanded that they fight with tooth and nail to get where they were.

Neither of them appreciated Reese’s kind, and it was likely the very reason why Jack was still enamoured with Nisha after all these years. Countless suitors had tried to woo both Lawrence and Jack to no avail. There were few like them, few who knew what they had to do, the sacrifices they made to get where they were.

_ Nah _ . The kid would not be joining them this evening, but it didn't mean he couldn't have his fun.

Reese was still flushed red from Lawrence's previous comment.

"Lighten up, I'm teasing kiddo, you do what you have to do." Lawrence effortlessly turned the conversation around, and finally a colour other than red began to return to Reese’s cheeks. 

"So," Lawrence started in a lighter tune, "you're a closer? What division?"

"Mining. Actually, I'll soon be approaching a new Eridium deal, I'm -"

"Cool, cool," Lawrence nodded cutting the kid off. "But where do you want to go? What are  _ your _ dreams for Hyperion."

"Well..." Reese’s eyes lowered for a moment, and his hands were awkwardly shoved into his pockets. "I guess I want to be... you?"

Nisha snorted loudly, a sound Lawrence had never heard before, and he too scoffed and tried not to let the drugs swimming in his mind take over.

"Oh, yeah? Guess that's a pretty good answer. I mean, who  _ wouldn’t _ want to be me?"

The smile Lawrence pulled beguiled his resentment. He already fucking loathed this twerp.

"You know I used to be in data mining," Lawrence said.

_ A lie. _

"Really?" Reese lingered closer, eyes shining brightly. 

Lawrence hummed, "yeah it's not so glorious, but with the right, um...modifications." He clicked his tongue and looked Reese up and down. "You could go far. Really far."

"What kind of... modifications?"

Lawrence raised his hand and gripped Reese’s shoulder. The effects were immediate. Reese’s eyes nearly blacked out as he looked at the palm on his arm and his lips became flushed. He licked them, a nervous tick Lawrence reasoned before eying him once again.

"We're very close to offering our cybernetic enhancements to our most trusted employees," Lawrence spoke softly as if this were some great secret for their ears only.

"Cybernetics? But that would mean..."

"Yeah, yeah I know, surgery, rehab, and all that. But productivity? whoosh." Lawrence made a jet noise and shot his hand away from Reese and into the air. "You'll go far,  _ high _ even."

Lawrence strived to not burst out laughing at the mention of the word 'high'. 

"It will take you far kiddo, trust me you'll be moving up faster than I ever did. How old are you? 20? 22?"

"25, this year, sir."

Lawrence whistled. The baby face easily shaved off the numbers on the kid's age.

"Tell ya what, I'll set you up now." Lawrence pulled out his echo and connected it the appropriated channels. It took a few tries to find what he was looking for. His hands were just not as coordinated as he willed them to be. He set an appointment for Reese, which took some time as his name was not spelt as it sound. Finally finding Rhys Myers he set up the meeting with the cybernetics division and forwarded on the details. 

"You're not going to regret this. You'll be the envy of ever corporate dog here."

"Thank you sir!" Rhys beamed and inched closer again. 

"We always look out for your own," Nisha said. Hands curling under Lawrence's collar and stroking along where his sniper scar sat under the fabric.

Rhys thanked them again and excused himself to find his father and their drinks. 

Nisha burst out laughing, and Lawrence stole another kiss before revealing the final act.

"Come with me, I'm not done yet."

She was practically glowing and hung off his arm. 

Lawrence scouted the room until he found the man he needed.

Venez. Wait, Wazqen. It didn't matter. The slick oily-haired fuck was easy enough to spot. When he approached with Nisha, the man stood attentively and appeared as if he was ready to salute them.

"Wallet-head, got a special request," Lawrence flashed a wolfish grin. "See that kid, the tall, pale thing. Yeah him." He didn't wait to see if Wallet-head was following along. "Rhsie there, will be joining your team in data mining, will probably come in with some flashy cybernetics too."

"Ok, sir. I'll get him the best desk and orientate him pronto."

"Nah, Nah, Nah," Lawrence waved a hand, "I don't want that. I  _ want _ the opposite of that." 

"Sir?"

"I don't care if that kid is the best coder, closer, or gives the greatest under the table "foot messages" in the damn office." Lawrence put last words in quotation marks. "You don't  _ ever _ let him get a promotion. You hear me?"

"I don't understand sir."

"He could cut off both his arms and his legs and end up delivering three times your deliverables, it doesn't matter.  _ You _ make sure he never moves up. Got it?"

"Yes sir, I won't let you down, sir."

"Awesome, thanks champ." Lawrence clapped his hands together, and Nisha buried her lips into his neck and howled with laughter. He wrapped both arms around her to stop her from dropping to the floor. 

"Come on,  _ now _ it's time to find Jack."

She nodded, eyes bloodshot and wet with tears.

"Let's see how good Jack really is with his tie, hmmm?" 

She hummed pleased with that plan and lead him back to the passage behind the bar. They had the whole night ahead of them. 

* * *

The rest of the evening had flashed by in a swirl of powdered substances, bright lights and heated flesh. Memories of Jack bent over in front of him were a blur, as was Nisha on top of him. Lawrence groaned and fumbled for his echo as the memories faded. The damn thing was flashing and disturbing his much-needed sleep in. Blinking he squinted at the device and tried to read the message displayed across the screen. 

'Last night was fun boys, but when the purple light shines, he's  _ your _ problem. - Nisha'

Lawrence rubbed his eyes and attempted to read the message four more times. Hoping it would stick. It was signed by Nisha, and yet her namesake was nowhere to be seen. Lawrence called out for her, but the room was empty save for the snoring Jack asleep on his arm. 

"Jack, get off, my arm is dead."

Lawrence softly battered his head against Jack's. Nudging him over the covers so his shoulder could wiggle free. 

"Wha-?" Jack opened his eyes, and a dopey look spilled over his scarred and unmasked face.

Lawrence made a mental note to remember that look. As adorable as it was it would only last a fraction of a second before he'd put on his 'handsome' demeanour and let his features go sharp. 

Yet, the moment passed, and Jack remained locked in a distant stare. 

He slowly blinked, eyes narrowing as he looked Lawrence up and down. The mark of the Vault shimmered in the low light, casting a violet hue onto the pillow between them. And Lawrence groaned. No wonder Nisha had bolted. Jack was in one of his Eridium trances.

The man in the bed beside him wasn't  _ his _ Jack. The Jack in front of him was trapped in a memory, and most likely one where he wasn't 'Handsome Jack'. That was evident from the long look of confusion across the man's face.

"Who are you!?" Jack shouted and threw himself up from the covers. His hands frantically pressed down into the mattress as he pushed himself further away from Lawrence. So frantically he moved, that it caused the bed to bounce at an uneasy rhythm. Lawrence groaned as his hungover head shook uncomfortably into the pillow. 

"Jack, come back, it's fine," Lawrence said, gently trying to encourage him back to bed to no avail.

He tried to ignore the sharp tingling sensation in his fingers as his nerves received a blood flow again. Reaching an arm out, he waved down to the bed and gestured for Jack to return to his side, but the other man only stared back, eyes wide as he looked at Lawrence like some kind of confusing mistake. 

Jack's feet were on the floor now, and he was taking cautious steps back from the bed. 

"Whatever went on, I'm sure it was great." Jack raised two hands defensively and took another step. "As I'm always great," Jack blurted out with a sly smile, and yet, Lawrence noted it wasn't as perfect as his usual deliveries of wit and toothy grins.

“But, I don’t  _ do _ guys,” Jack finished almost apologetically. 

"What?" Lawrence scoffed and raised a brow.

"You and me, one-time thing. I'm just going to see myself out. Yup. Just gonna go."

Lawrence snorted at  that and buried his face into the pillow. _ Oh, this was too good.  _

Though when he pulled his face up, Jack had made no motion to move. His gaze, though still covered in purple light, was more focused now. And Lawrence noticed how his line of sight travelled from Lawrence's shoulders and down his waist.

“Yup, trust me to drunkenly hook up with a guy that looks like me. Kinda hot I guess, but that's not my thing.” Jack continued to try and deflate the situation, and this only fueled Lawrence's smirk to grow wider.

“So...Just gonna go now.”

"You may not know it yet, but you end up  _ 'doing _ guys'. Quite often actually," Lawrence drawled, keeping his eyes fixed on Jack. 

When Jack didn't reply he inched towards the edge of the bed, making sure to turn his body so that Jack got a full view of his chest and navel. He was in perfect shape for a reason. Jack cleared his throat but made no motion to leave the room and Lawrence took this as a good sign. Sweeping the covers away, he swung his feet to the edge of the bed and used the leverage to draw the rest of himself up. 

"Ok, you're naked. Right. Ok. um."

Jack choked on his words, and Lawrence found himself giddy with this display of innocence.

"Want me to walk you out?" Lawrence said hands resting on his hips. Not at all ashamed to bare all. 

"No," Jack scoffed, but again, he made no indication that he was going to leave. His eyes were doing their best to stay focused on Lawrence's own.

"Well, the door is over there," he waved an arm towards the exit of their bedroom. "No one is stopping you."

Jack nodded slowly, eyes darting between the door and Lawrence a few times before they settled back on him. "Damn, you really look a lot like me, but like, what, a hundred years older? How old are you?"

Lawrence unsuccessfully stifled a laugh at the bluntness of Jack's questions.

"Forty."

Which wasn't entirely true.

That was was Jack’s age. As for Lawrence, he hadn't reached his thirty-eighth birthday. His was sometime late in the Eden-5 Calendar, not that he could recall the exact date anymore.

Jack’s eyes gave Lawrence another quick look over, "I've always been into older gals, you know? But this, this is a first." 

This was too pure, too good. The real Jack would gut him if he ever knew what happened when he was trapped in these old memories. Lawrence gave him a few details here and there, but he never revealed everything. He thoroughly enjoyed these little private moments with a much younger Jack. Or John would be a better word. Lawrence decided he'd try it.

"So how old are you  _ John _ ?"

"Twenty-two," John rocked back on the balls of his feet, hands resting on his hips. His initial shock of the situation was melting away swiftly, and he gave no apparent concern that he too was stark naked.

"What happened to your face?" John spat out. Apparently, the scar on Lawrence's face was ruining John's appreciation for everything else. He didn't blame him, the mark was pretty bad. 

"Vault-hunting accident."

That got something to be desired running through John. He took a step closer to Lawrence.

"You're a vault hunter?" John words were smothered in awe.

Lawrence took this chance to step closer, slowly though, so not to startle off his prize. John stayed put, and so he lightly pressed his thumbs down the other man's hip bone. Tracing them back and forth. When John didn't discourage the attention, Lawrence encircled the rest of his hand around his waist and drew them together. 

"Come back to bed," Lawrence let his whisper run hot down John's neck. And a satisfying swell of desire burned inside of him as John trembled to his words. "I'll tell you all about it."

John breathed out slowly before speaking again.

"Yeah, I think I will."

* * *

Jack or John still hadn't come too, and the memory lock remained the same.

They spent most the morning getting reacquainted with each other. John was apparently a twenty-two-year-old studying a double degree in computer science and engineering. He'd started it through a scholarship at the age of sixteen and was now in his final year. He current hope was to be shortlisted for the first round of internships at Hyperion. 

It took a lot of effort for Lawrence to keep a straight face.

John kept his distance in the bed, but as he shared more of his complaints about his incompetent lecturers, his grips about the curriculum and what he would do differently, he shifted closer to Lawrence. Eventually, they were in the same position as they woke up, John leaning on his chest, with his weight against Lawrence's arm and his head on his shoulder. It was going to go dead again, but it was worth it.

Lawrence had his hand running circles over Johns back. Tracing along the white lines of old wounds they both shared. Thankful, Jack was never genuinely aware when he was in these trances, so John hadn't seemed to notice he was stuck in the body of a forty-year-old. Lawrence just hoped he didn't need to go to the bathroom. He didn't want to deal with John having an existential crisis when he looked in the mirror. It had happened once before, and Lawrence had to immediately drug Jack into a coma.

It didn't take long for John to start becoming more inquisitive of Lawrence and his Vault-hunting activities. He asked how exactly he got the scar, which Lawrence told him a Siren beat him to a vault and smashed his face with an artifact. That had John calling bullshit, and Lawrence just shrugged his shoulders.

Next, his attention was focused on the room. Lawrence's and Jack's bedroom was massive, not at all what college Tim or John would have been used to. There was no denying the wealth sprawled across the room. It was covered in luxurious finishes; marble, gold, and velvet were Jack's favourite surfaces. 

Tacky. Always so tacky.

John nodded his head in approval and snuggled closer.

However, the materialistic qualities didn't hold his attention for long. He followed John’s gaze and found it had landed near his sofa by the window. His yellow and patched together Hyperion jumper was hanging off it. Its usual location when he wasn't wearing it or Jack hadn't stolen it. John pressed into Lawrence side, a welcoming gesture, but it wasn't Lawrence he was interested in, no, John was eager to get a closer look at the jumper on the far side of the room.

"That's Hyperion," John muttered. "Yellow looks good next to it."

"You're observant."

John flew him a wild glare, "you work for Hyperion?"

"Yeah."

"Where? What position? How long?" John drilled him with question after question.

"Main headquarters (wherever that was in John's timeline), upper management, seven years."

"Seven years to upper management? Whose cock did you have down your throat for seven years?"

Lawrence snorted.

_ Yours. _

"I'm a...glorified PA for this guy. That's how I got the gig."

"And you just happen to Vault hunt on the side?"

"Well, kinda. Yeah. Among other things."

John was restless, it was apparent he wanted to know more about Lawrence’s 'role' and Vault Hunter activities. He didn't know how long he could keep this charade up for. Already Lawrence’s cheeks were beginning to ache from so much grinning.

"You got plans?" he said, words muffled as he pressed his lips into John's hair.

"Loads, I'm going to get that internship, then with a few calculated backstabs, and sucking off the right people, I'm going to run that department. One step closer to running the whole damn place. I know it."

Lawrence laughed, "I meant now, but sure, dream big kiddo."

John frowned, his lips pouted, "don't call me kiddo."

Dammit, Lawrence wanted to take those lips and do all kinds of things with them. He cleared his throat and leaned further into the pillows, pushing those thoughts away. Taking Jack while he was like this, was probably a step too far, but he couldn't deny the temptation was there.

"You have a lot of scars," John directed the conversation away, unknowingly for Lawrence’s benefit.

"Yeah, my line of work kinda demands it. I'm always looking out for this guy called Jack." Thankfully John's head was under Lawrence's chin, so he couldn't' see the wild grin on his face.

"I thought you were a glorified PA?"

"That too."

"So who's Jack?"

"My boss, sorta." Lawrence frowned, he hadn't called Jack his boss in a very long time. "He's not really my boss anymore."

"So, is this Jack guy, is he important?" John drawled making Lawrence's task of keeping a straight face so much more difficult. He knew that voice. John was fixing a plan, an opportunist to the core, even at his tender age.

"Yeah, he kinda is." 

"It would  _ really _ help my chances to get the internship if you, you know-"

John was mumbling now, getting shy. Lawrence bit his lip to stop himself from chuckling. Despite already being a weasel back then it seemed Jack lacked the courage and decisiveness of his current self. 

"Put a word in for you?"

"Yes?"

"You know, cupcake, nothing comes for free, and my boss is not the easiest person to talk to." Lawrence looked at John from under his eyelashes. "What can  _ you _ offer me?"

John shifted on his chest and pulled away, supporting himself on his forearms. He looked a bit unsure, eyes darting around as if estimating his chances. Lawrence kept his eyes on the shimmering scar of his. It had been hours. Jack had never been stuck in one timeline for so long, and he wondered what kept him there. Could it have been that on some deep level Handsome Jack, CEO of Hyperion missed the simpler times? If he did, he never indicated so.

"If you promise to mention me, like  _ really _ mention..." John was stalling, still unsure but then slyness glazed his stare. "What can I do for you, Mr Lawrence?"

He eyed John's face amused how being a twenty-two year old would smooth his worry lines and make him visibly younger and somehow more endearing. He could vaguely recall the same impression he got when they first met - Jack was thirty-five but based on his infantile behaviour he seemed more youthful. Not an unattractive trait unless one dug deeper.

"Your lips, pumpkin, love them. Put those to good use, and I promise you, the internship is yours."

And then there it was. That Handsome Jack smile, one in a million. Jack beamed and nodded. 

John pulled himself on top of Lawrence, his hips rubbing against his, as he lowered down and began to trail soft kisses along Lawrence's abdomen. Lawrence stretched his arms up behind his head and got comfortable, this was a view he was never going to forget.

John finally reached the blanket, with his teeth - how cheeky and low-grade porn like - he lifted the covers and began to drag himself down. It was beyond amusing to watch him fumble. Yet, before John could move any further the memories of Jacks "one of a kind BJ's" surfaced Lawrence reasoned that a twenty-two-year-old Jack wasn't going to fair any better than his current self.

He snagged John by the chin before he could go any further.

"Up here, John. A good kiss will do."

Lawrence was surprised by how much effort was required to drag him back up. John was practically begging to move back down, his eyes darting below the covers and back onto Lawrence. 

"Come here," he sighed. He smiled softly and wrapped his arms around John.

Lawrence couldn't withhold a gratifying groan as John's body was pulled against his as he drew himself up. 

"Fuck," he heaved as he dug his hands into John. "I want you so damn much," he whispered into his ear.

“Then have me.”

Lawrence groaned, “maybe I will, if -” though Lawrence's next words were smothered as John pressed his lips to his.

This was not at all how Jack kissed.

John moved his mouth slowly over his, taking his time. His hands gently ran down the side of Lawrence's face, and their foreheads pressed together. John parted for the briefest moment, so his bi-coloured eyes fastened onto his own.

"Funny, your eyes are kinda like mine," John mused before he abruptly winced and a short cry came from his throat. 

"My head," he whined and curled up closer.

The mark of the vault had flickered, indicating that their time was up. He buried John into his chest and held him tight. Jack was going to come back, or they going to jump into another memory. 

Either way, John was gone. 

Lawrence pressed a kiss into his hair and closed his eyes. Waiting for the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so these becoming jack chapters are always just a bunch of random scenes i come up with and then I have to some how mush them together into a coherent chapter. So I hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster. Writing handsome Lawrence is-so-much-fun. Also M belongs to [terraperformance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraperformance/pseuds/terraperformance) who is writing her own WAW AU about the first pocket watch double!
> 
> So.....It's been a lonely two months working on nothing but uni. I'm very keen to hear your thoughts. What did you think of Jack's acquisition of Atlas (its canon, killing the dog and daughter.) of Rhys? and of Jack's little moment of being John?
> 
> As always comments make my day, and I love to hear your thoughts and theories. Xxx And thanks to [Eternal-Garbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind) who added in something somewhere in this chapter. 
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) 
> 
> **Next Update:** Tim needs to suss out his future. Crake is an angry red boy.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	36. Into Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, early chapter update. Thank you for all the well wishes and messages of congrats on my last chapter!

Though Crake had stayed out of the watch, he did not linger as close as he once did. What long conversations they once shared were now gone. Only to be replaced with bitter words. Lawrence couldn't blame him. Yet, he desperately wished for this moment to pass, for things to go back to as they were.

While they walked to the cliff's edge, Meatface whined, and Lawrence tossed her a piece of skag meat. She happily ate it up and immediately sort attention from him with a nudge of her spiny trap-of-a-mouth. 

At least they had hunting to keep them occupied. Neither of them had mentioned Angel, Nyx and the others, and Lawrence had no intention in bringing them up.

Crake was quieter than he'd ever been.

"So, um, moving on from here, any ideas?" Lawrence spoke brightly in an attempt to shatter the wall between them. 

"None." 

Lawrence hummed and summoned his sniper.

"We could, I dunno, check a bounty board? Go on a road trip?"

"Or we could go back to the others," Crake snapped. "Lawrence, what do you want me to say? That I'm ok being out here? Being stuck alone in the damn watch?"

Crake's words were reason enough for Lawrence to shrink, causing him to lower himself to the ground with his weapon. Crake's demeanour fell, and his expression softened. 

"Let's just shoot."

Lawrence happily agreed to that, and a moment later he was laying on his mat, sniper set up, gazing over the gorge with Crake next to him. He leaned into the scope and made note where the nearest Rakk nest and Skag den laid. 

"I know you don't eat, but what do you fancy for dinner?" Lawrence perked up with a smile, which fell the moment he received no reply from Crake.

He silenced for a bit and resigned the conversation for shooting. They hunted for the next hour, and Crake only spoke when Lawrence needed his aim adjusted. The tremors had died down and were not giving him so much grief, for once he wished they'd emerge forth so that Crake would have something to say. They waited, and silenced again. Watching for another skag to try its luck crossing the gorge.

The rumble of an engine pulled Lawrence away from his scope, scanning the horizon he spied a reinforced bandit truck kicking up sand on top of the cliff face on the other side of the gorge. He eyed Crake, but the magenta AI said nothing. 

Lawrence pulled his sniper away from the edge of the cliff and lowered himself on his matt. With the shrubs to his side, and gentle slope he should be concealed from whoever drove these parts.

Or so he thought.

The truck came to an abrupt stop, and two heavily armed figures jumped from the front. 

"Fuck, did they see us?" Lawrence hissed to Crake, not daring to peek up from his cover.

"I don't think so."

"Why the fuck did they stop then?"

Crake groaned irritably. "I know why."

And when Crake refused to elaborate Lawrence crawled an inch upwards to catch a glimpse of the intruders. Meatface - the damn piece of crap on paws of - was happily bounding around the parked vehicle, yapping at the occupants to get out.

And so they did. Lawrence withdrew to his cover the moment he identified the trespassers; Vault Hunters.

"Axton, ex Dahl, and I have no idea who the other is," Crake said.

Lawrence chanced another quick glance. The woman, no wait, teenager? Was at the commando's side, she knelt down and patted the damn skag. Her hair was as red as the desert around them, and Meatface had no issue seeking attention from the complete strangers.

"She looks no older than Angel."

"I've found a report on her. Gaige, from your home planet, Eden-5, and wanted for...murder."

Lawrence snorted, "Who'd she kill? A stuffed animal?"

"She made a death machine that apparently killed a competitor and classmate at a science fair."

"Oh wow, killing the competition. Jack would like her. You know, if she wasn't a Vault Hunter." 

Crake went immediately silent at the mention of Jack. Lawrence pulled his gaze down and turned a stone over in his hands. Wishing he could go five minutes without mentioning his notorious ex. 

With their cover seemingly concealed Lawrence and Crake silently observed the two Vault Hunters. The Dahl soldier and kid sat in the back of their truck, had their lunch, threw some scraps to the skag before packing off and driving thankfully in the opposite direction of Lawrence's camp. 

While the Vault Hunters enjoyed a meal, Lawrence's belly rumbled. He still needed to claim a kill if he was going to eat, and if he didn't soon, then Meatface was back on the menu. Scouting through his scope he idly commented on their dinner options again to Crake, and once again the digistruct remained silent. 

He pulled away from his scope and glanced up; Crake's face was stiff, brow furrowed and eyes fixed straight ahead. Lawrence followed his line of sight and found what gave his friend reason to remain silent.

On the horizon was a dust cloud, and at the front of it was a convoy racing through the gorge.

"Dammit, why are they coming back?" Lawrence asked, but he received no answer. 

The convey was advancing and as he watched on his breathing quickened. The vehicle was not the same as before, in fact, it was much the same as the one they'd observed before their imprisonment with Tania. Lawrence hurriedly shoved his eyes to the scope, heart already racing, and eyes drawing wide as the symbol of two wolves devouring each other breached the dust cloud. 

The symbol of Tania’s operation.

By the time the armoured vehicle approached their end of the gorge sweat was dripping from his chin. The truck slowly drove across the drying river bed, patrolling the land akin to the stalkers that guarded the highlands. 

Lawrence involuntarily winced and drew a hand over his arm. Covering the scars from where the wire had been dragged out of his body. 

"Crake,  _ don't _ " Lawrence whispered softly, but his plea was pointless. One look at the AI told him all he needed to know.

Crake wasn't going to let them go.

"Crake!" he hissed, hoping the AI would hear the tremor in his voice but he did not, or if he did, Crake chose to ignore him.

Crake pixelated forward. With one knee to the ground and the other up, he rested his sniper and aimed at the truck. It only took a moment for Crake to find his aim, and he was a perfect shot. Never had he missed a target, and Lawrence knew he would not fail now. 

The weapon fired, and Lawrence hastily drew his eyes back to the vehicle and watched in trepidation. For a moment, all occupants seemed well, it appeared the shot had missed. However, he knew better to hope for such a thing. Before he could call to his friend and halt the assault the vehicle swerved and collided with the nearest boulder. It rolled a full 360 degrees before landing in the stagnant river bed.

Someone started screaming.

They ran out of the truck and tried to drag their wounded comrade from the driver's side, but another well-aimed shot from Crake took them out by the knee. The women - Lawrence realised by the sound of her agony - dropped to the ground and gripped her severed kneecaps.

Crake fired again and took the top of her head clean off.

"Dammit Crake! Stop shooting they'll know our position."

"Good," he snarled and flashed away to reappear as far as the watch would allow. He changed weapons over to an assault rifle and filled the front engine with holes, halting any chance of escape for the rest of the occupants.

"Lawrence lets move!" Crake called from downhill.

But he could not, he could merely blink slowly at Crake. Too overwhelmed with phantom pains across his arms and abdomen, the memory of Tania's torture becoming fresh in his mind.

Her words seeped through the cracks in his memories.

_ "You are going to die here." _

Lawrence drew a sharp breath and felt dread claw within him. It had been easy to suppress the trauma when the memories were buried and lost from the drug abuse. He'd revealed everything to that woman, every detail of his sad life, everything Jack did to him, what the man planned for Pandora, and how he kept his daughter imprisoned.

Lawrence gagged and swallowed down the bile that was bursting to come up.

"Lawrence!"

Crake's call did nothing to cement him in reality.

He was back in that chair, naked, vulnerable and unable to move to save his mouth from whispering every pathetic detail.

Tania knew who he was, she knew everything.

The sand next to him exploded into a cloud of dust and pieces of rock cut at his sleeves. Lawrence made himself level with the ground as another bullet tried to claim his head. A flash of red appeared next to him, and Crake started yelling in his ear.

"We end them now, let's move."

Lawrence did not want to. This was the part where he would put on his Jack 'mask' and let his rage take over. 

"Crake, please don't make me.”

He couldn't be Jack any more.

"You don't have to. I'll do it. Just get me close enough."

With a huff, Lawrence agreed. He started to shimmy away from the cliff edge, but kept his sniper in place, hoping to conceal his real location. Using the boulders as cover he carefully made his way down the side of the gorge slope, and when he was in range Crake gave him a sharp look before leaving him and pixelating to the destroyed truck.

They were no match for Crake. Their bullets uselessly flew through him and only caused his image to flicker before becoming stable again. 

The wounded driver had managed to crawl out of the truck and was held up behind it with one other shooter. The back of the vehicle was covered in a canvas tarp, Lawrence did not know how many were held up in the trailer, he could only count for one more, the women shot dead by Crake.

This was stupid, this was bloody out of turn for Crake. The AI was perpetually planning his assaults, though violent and ready for action; he'd never charged in like this before. They had no idea how many they were up against. Lawrence drew a sharp breath, counted back from five and resigned he would join the fray. He had to finish this before the watch's battery failed, and Crake left him with the shitstorm he had just created. 

Before he could move from his cover something sharp dug into the back of his head.

"Drop the weapon, and remove all your digistruct gear, slowly."

Lawrence grunted as the barrel of a gun was pressed deep into his head. He silently obeyed, all while keeping his eyes fixed ahead. 

Crake was nowhere to be seen.

Tania's man slammed the weapon into his head again.

"Do it."

Lawrence dropped his Jakobs pistol. However, while he took his time taking off his gear-chip, the man removed the safety on his weapon.

"The watch too princess."

"No," Lawrence deadpan. The words fell out faster than he could process them. He vowed never to take the device off again, and here he was with a gun at his head and still acting on such promises. 

The gun fired, and he copped a mouthful of dust as the round exploded into the dirt next to him. The ringing in his ears was agony and caused him to blink dumbly. Gripping the side of his head, he called out to Crake, but could scarcely hear his own voice. Wincing, he coughed again but made no move to take the watch off. 

If Tania's man was saying something, Lawrence could not hear it.

Titunitis was a bitch.

When the weapon did not return to the dangerous position on his head Lawrence slowly drew to the side and saw the man standing a few feet back, gun still pointed downwards on Lawrence, but eyes set ahead. To the side stood Crake and in front of him was another woman from the convoy. It seemed as if Crake's hand was embedded inside her chest like he was holding onto something; something inside of her.

There was blood gushing from the woman's open mouth. Crake said something, and Lawrence was sure the man behind him replied, but the ringing was persistent. Lawrence rubbed at his ears, desperate to hear the conversation, slowly words started to seep through the hissing in his head. 

"drop .... ....pon, ... I'll... ...rate your com... insides."

Crake possessed a look akin to Jack when a threat hit home. Eyes wild and lips pulled into a cruel smile, Crake only had one intention; slaughter.

"Crake?" Lawrence tried to call to him, but the AI had his eye's set on Lawrence's executioner.

The ringing in his head was subsiding, and finally, he could comprehend the conversation between the two men and their hostages.

"My hand is burning her internal organs, disarm yourself, or watch her die," Crake spoke flatly, his tone leaving no room for debate. 

Crake's captive convulsed, and a spray of blood exploded from her throat.

"Quickly now, the contents of her stomach are boiling."

"Fucking bandits!" Tania's man roared from behind Lawrence, "release her you fucking godamn psychopath!"

"No."

With that said Crake flexed his arm and crushed what was left of the woman's stomach. She did not scream, only a gargle of blood poured from her mouth, and Lawrence had to look away. The last thing he saw was her boiling blood dripping off her chin.

"NO! RACHEL! Fuck! FUCK!!!" The man behind him scream, his voice tormented in sorrow as he watched the woman choke on her own scorching blood.

There was a soft thud as she dropped to her knees. 

The entire display sent the man behind him into shock and Crake took the opportunity. He fired his pistol into his kneecaps, sending him into the ground. Lawrence dove for the weapon hanging loose in his hand and pointed it at his ex-captors head. Crake pixelated over and knelt beside him.

"Stop complaining. We need to talk."

"You godamn monsters, you fucking bandit psychopaths. Why the fuck, did you have to kill her!? Why?!" He was blubbering now with loud sobs echoing off the walls of the gorge.

Lawrence felt nothing as he watched the man cry at the loss of his companion, the only worry he had was his complete lack of empathy.

"She chose to ride under your mark, and we're just collecting our debt," Crake replied softly.

"Wh-a-at fucking d-debt?" the man choked through thick angry tears. His eyes slowly traced over Lawrence's face, and gradually recognition caused his features to turn into disgust.

"You," he whispered. "You're alive...but...you should be dead."

There was something in the man's voice that formed a cold pit in Lawrence's stomach. Hope; the realisation that Lawrence was alive was an auspicious notation to Tania's man.

That would mean...

Lawrence finally found his voice, and it held no warmth. "I was," he said evenly, "for a moment."

"When she finds out when she-"

"Tania won't be finding anything out," Crake growled. "Corpses are great at keeping secrets."

The man spat at Crake. "She will find you," he laughed bitterly. "After you blabbed everything,” the man jerked his head at Lawrence before continuing, "what's to stop her?"

Lawrence ignored his remark.

"Your base, where is it? It must be near as your vehicle is not equipped with enough supplies to last more than a cycle out here." Crake pressed down closer towards the man.

"The fuck, you think I'm going to tell you?"

"There is nothing at that end of the gorge, save a sheer cliff face. What will we find?" Crake asked evenly. 

Tania's man said nothing and Crake didn't give him another moment to reconsider. He flicked his wrists, and a small laser appeared in between his fingers. The man couldn't keep fear at bay, and it crawled over every corner of his face as Crake shoved his hand into his chest.

"What is at the end of the gorge?" Despite his vicious intentions, Crake softly reiterated the question. "Answer me, and perhaps I'll make this swift."

The man's eyes bulged, and red was already painting his lips.

Lawrence winced, the smell was putrid. Burning flesh and stomach contents aside he was pretty sure the guy had just pissed himself. When Tania's man started to speak Crake withdrew his hand, causing blood to bloom across his armoured plated chest. 

"Rai-..railway track!" he coughed with an explosion of blood from his mouth. "Atlas owned...abandoned."

His eyes were glassy and skin like ash. Tania's man wasn't fairing much better that Crake's first victim.

"What's it's purpose?"

"No-n...hing." He wheezed, before coughing more blood down his front. "We...we use it to travel across...the ...the Dust...it's how...how we get around..."

Crake glanced up at Lawrence and gave him a thoughtful stare before returning to his interrogation. 

"What did Tania want with us?"

"The fuck... I know...I just drive the fucking...truck."

"You're lying," Crake snarled and drove his hand back into the man's chest. "We were her prisoners for a week, that woman wanting something from us, what was it?"

"Ask him!" The man heaved pointing a jarring finger at Lawrence. "He...he...barely had a moment alone, she... kept...kept him by her side...the whole time."

Lawrence bowed his head for a moment. He remembered her face, the gentle brush of her fingers across his cheek, her words encouraging him softly to open up and tell her everything.

"Crake, let's just end this."

"No, not until I know what he knows, why they did what they did!"

"Crake," Lawrence breathed in, "we know why. She used me to get to Jack, and to Angel. There's nothing else to it."

A moment passed before Crake said anything again.

"No." Crake lingered closer to the man. "No, there's something else he's not telling us. I'll ask you again. What does Tania want?"

The look on Crake's face was unreadable, and Lawrence realised that hadn't been the case for some time. He almost appeared like he'd defaulted back to his digi-Jack state; a cold and ruthless machine. 

Tania's man only dribbled blood, and it took a lot of 'coxing' from Crake for him to utter one word.

"Opportunity" he rasped. 

Lawrence frowned. He did not have the means to give anyone Opportunity. Sure Lawrence had been Handsome Jack, but the namesake still kept all the keys to those things precious to him; Angel, the Bunker, and Opportunity.

"I can't give anyone Opportunity, you moron."

If hearing the hopeful tone in the man's voice had been unnerving before than it was nothing compared to the weary smile stretching across his bloodstained lips. Lawrence's heart quickened, and a tremor rippled down his arm causing him to clench his fists into the sand.

"You don't know....do you?" The smile lingered, blood oozing through his teeth. 

"Know what," Lawrence spat.

Though before the man answered Crake pulled in close.

"Lawrence, the battery is failing, unless you want to take over, I think we have what we need."

Tania's man was taunting him. It was the only play he had left. They all knew that he wasn't leaving here alive. Lawrence gave Crake a weary nod. He did not want to take over, he needed to to be Jack for that. Crake’s expression smoothed out, and he knew what to expect next. 

The man didn't have time to plea. Crake raised his hand, produced the laser again and forced his palm into his face. He screamed as his flesh burned away. Lawrence couldn't hear his own cry of protest as Crake robbed the man on his face, leaving nothing but charcoal bone and brain matter.

"Crake!" he waved a hand through the AI, desperate to make him stop. The man was dead, but Crake didn't end the assault.

"CRAKE! enough!"

Finally, he withdrew his hand and dismissed the laser. He said nothing as he stood up, face still expressionless, void of all sentiment.

"Crake?"

"What?" he hissed back.

Lawrence ran a hand through his hair, unsure and worried what to say back to the AI. Crake had always been ruthless, and yes, a tad sadistic, but this was something else. Lawrence thought these parts of Crake were long gone. That they remained as part of his pre-shackled self, these were the acts that had made him a 'digi-jack' not 'Crake.'

There was a truly horrible fury inside of him, and Tania’s men just copped a taste of it.

"I have to go now," Crake said, and before Lawrence could reply he digistructed away. Leaving Lawrence alone with four corpses, a torn up truck and a lot of nausea.

When he finally got on his feet and dragged himself to the truck, Lawrence was ready to pass up eating altogether. Crake had been busy. The other man in the shootout had met the same fate, burned from the inside out and face melted. He said nothing, knowing that Crake may be listening in. He searched the truck and looted the supplies. At least he didn't need to hunt for food now, but his stomach was not going to accept anything for some time.

He checked their echo comms but they were all encrypted. Not wanting to reveal his location with a botched encryption, he chose to leave them alone.

If Angel were here, it would be an easy feat, but thankfully she was not. She did not need to see the savagery that had just gone down.

Satisfied that he had what he needed Lawrence dragged the bodies into the back of the truck and set the entire thing aflame. Returning to his sniper, then camp, he packed up and drove Janey's bike in the opposite direction.

The recharge was completed by the time he'd made it to a new campsite, and Crake was not pleased with their new location. 

"We should be going after them!" Crake snapped back. "We know where they are, let's get ahead of them!"

"We know shit all," Lawrence said back, trying his best not to raise his voice. "So there's some abandon Atlas station in the gorge? We don't know its defences, where it goes, or who is there."

Crake snarled, at this point.

"If you hadn't-"

"If I hadn't what?! Lawrence? Those people bled you for a week, abused, humiliated you and left you for dead. Fucking hell! They put wire inside your body!"

Lawrence flinched, and a hand drew to his stomach. 

"What do you want me to do!" he cried back, voice finally breaking, and when it did Crake looked visibly shaken. "Last time we faced her I nearly died. I did die!" Lawrence jabbed a finger to his chest, "my heart stopped, I remember it, I remember trying to say goodbye. I remember trying to apologise for everything, and then...everything just went away."

Crake had fallen silent.

"Facing her, killing her, means I have to be something I'm not. I have to be Jack to do those things, Crake, please don't make me face her.” 

"Tim, they have to pay...I can't let this go," he said, eyes downcast.

Jack had also gone to great lengths to inflict revenge on those who had hurt his precious double. However, Lawrence didn't dare mention the comparison aloud. There was a part of Crake just like Jack that was vicious and depraved, but unlike his former lover, the AI genuinely cared.

"Please don't, not for me.”

As Tania's man had said, "she knew everything," and if Lawrence were to face her again, he would not win. How do you beat someone who knows your every fear, weakness and fault?

You can't. 

Up until the convoy passed through the gorge, he'd been blissfully unaware of the explicit details of his imprisonment. Lawrence wished that was still so. But memories never liked to sit still. He found himself involuntarily chewing his lip, just as he had before in an attempt to stop himself from spilling everything in that dungeon.

Crake sat beside him and had once again fallen silent. The AI wanted revenge, and Lawrence just wanted to drop it and withdraw. 

"Can we at least scout out the entrance?" he asked, the hopeful note in his voice was too obvious.

Lawrence grounded his teeth and closed his eyes. He didn't want to take another step in that gorge. What if Tania and her men had already found the burned-out truck and had sent out a search and capture party?

"Crake, I... I don't want to go."

"Then let's go back to the others. To Angel and Nyx."

He didn't want that either.

"Lawrence, we cannot idle by in this damn wasteland forever."

Lawrence played with the sand at his feet, feeling how it tickled his fingers; thinking of Nyx wanting to touch the water. Thinking of anything but Tania and her men. 

"Lawrence?" 

He closed his eyes breathed deeply, knowing Crake was never going to let it go he surrendered with a huff.

"Fine," he agreed bitterly. "We go tomorrow, we look, but we DO nothing."

Crake eyes lit up. If he was trying to conceal his excitement, he was doing a shitty job.

"Promise me you won't shoot, or charge in."

Crake hesitated, and when Lawrence drilled him again, he sighed and agreed.

"I won't do anything. We look, and then we leave."

"Ok," Lawrence nodded more to reassure himself than anything.

He could do this. Just scope out the base and leave. 

* * *

His dreams were always coloured blue and purple.

A river of Eridium would spill into his lungs, while pale blue hands held him under.

Lawrence screamed, only to be smothered deeper into the current. Above the surface, two bright iridescent eyes stared back, along with a flash of teeth and a wolfish grin.

The AI would drown him every night, and the Eridium would bring him back and so the cycle was never broken.

The same dream had plagued his mind ever since he first caught a glimpse of Project Tartarus and it was rarely a detail different. Said dreams had halted for a time when Jack cancelled the program. 

But things were not as they were.

He had fled and disobeyed. There would be consequences, far greater than anything Jack had ever inflicted and the AI had always been reserved for such a thing. 

The dreams were back again, and far more visceral than before. He tried to swim to the surface, but every stroke only seemed to fill his lungs faster.

He screamed, and the Eridium washed away to be replaced with precious air. Lawrence abruptly woke; heart racing and hands clawing at the swag he freed himself. 

Woken again by thoughts he’d rather forget.

Groaning loudly he blinding groped along the ground for his water canister and took a swig. The health kit he’d taken for his bike crash had taken the edge off his pain and made a start on healing his broken ribs, but it wasn’t enough. It had stopped being enough a long time ago.

He squeezed his eyes shut; already memories were surging forth, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Memories of every treatment he had endured at Jack's hand, and every damn fucking mention of the AI.

It had been after their vacation on Pandora. Lawrence was out scouting the land, the last time Jack permitted him to leave the safety of the Bunkers defences. He'd encountered the Slab King's men. A close call followed. Shrapnel had grazed his leg. 

Lawrence tried to hide the wound, but Jack knew better.

He begged him not use Eridium, but with words meant nothing.

"Can't let this scar, kitten." Jack had whispered sweetly, as he dabbed the wound with the purple substance. 

That was the last time he saw jack in the flesh until he came for Angel's revenge, and not even then did he linger. Jack was disturbed by the bunker, afraid of what he had done to his sole child. It explained a lot really. Why he never visited. 

Lawrence rolled over and found Crake sitting idly by the fire.

He broke Crake’s AI laws the moment Jack left him alone again. He set Crake and Nyx free just to save himself from that fate. To save him from becoming just another Erdiuim fueled monster. 

"You're awake. What's wrong?" Crake called softly.

"Fucking sore. Can't sleep."

It was a partial lie. The dreams were more painful than the physical injuries. 

Crake pixelated over. "How? Did something happen? Did Tania's man hurt you?" Crake all most barked the question, demanding to know.

"No," Lawrence sighed. "Stupid fricken Meatface ran in front of my bike. I crash it. After I left," he muttered the last part not wanting to repeat his actions loudly.

Crake said nothing for a moment.

"Did you use a health kit?"

"Yup, last one."

Crake said nothing. Knowing full well they had stopped working at there fill strength long ago. For a moment he hoped Crake would cancel their expedition back into the gorge.

He did not. 

Lawrence didn't bother trying to attain any more sleep. He sat up and started to pack up camp. It was still very early in the cycle but the sun was on its way out. Soon the wastelands would be in darkness and he did not want to see how they would fair in a fight in darkness. 

He started the bike and they backtracked to their previous campsite. Meatface ran alongside him until she was distracted by a small skag. Running off to try and get the other beast to play with her. Lawrence ended up abandoning the bike and hid it amongst the scrubs and took the final distance on foot. Crake asked to stay in the watch until they were upon them, wanting to utilise the battery to its full potential. 

Lawrence wished that was not the case. It was easier to move towards an unknown threat with the AI by his side. He had not realised it until Crake was gone, that Crake provided more than just security. He felt every part more confident when a red glow walked beside him.

He wasn't exactly moving at a landslide pace. Frustrated, he kicked the ground only for his boot to hit something sharp. Cursing aloud he stepped back and examined the uneven earth. A sheet of metal laid under the top layer of sand, pushing the dirt away with his shoe Lawrence realised it was a railway track.

"Looks like Tania's man was telling the truth, there's a railway track in the earth. Must be pretty old as its buried." He said aloud for Crake to hear through his comm.

The AI digitised to his side.

"I didn't believe he was lying," Crake commented dryly. "People tend to speak honestly when faced with the outcome of a burst stomach."

Lawrence gave Crake a troubled look.

"Well, guess we're following this."

He adjusted his sniper and returned to walking along the tracks. As the end of the gorge came in sight he kept to the shadows of the cliff face and moved slowly from bolder to bolder. Every movement sent a jolt of anxiety through his chest. Fearing a sniper bullet taking off his head, or worse, leaving him open for capture.

No, he would not be captured again. He'd sooner have Crake end it before he was back in Tania's grasp. 

But no shots ever rang out, nor was a soul in sight.

Lawrence straightened up from his cover and closed the last distance between the cliff face and himself. There was nothing to be seen, save for the train track running straight into the rock wall. 

"Veiling technology," Crake said eyes narrowing as he studied the rock face in front of them. "Doesn't look armed. We should be able to walk through."

"Walk through?" Lawrence moved in front of Crake. "No way, we came to scout, not walk through it."

Crake just shrugged and pixelated away.

"Godmann! Crake!" Lawrence yelled. 

A moment passed before he reappeared.

"The railway track moves through a tunnel."

"No fuck you, I'm not going in there."

"Tania and her men could be-"

"No!" Lawrence, "Crake enough, I don't want to go fucking exploring!"

"Then go back to the others!" The AI lept in front of him, shouting in his face. "I want, I-I " Crake stopped talking and crossed his arms.

"I'm going to keep looking." 

With that said he flashed away. 

Lawrence bent over picked up a nearby rock and threw it through the veiled cliff face. The wall shimmered slightly as the projectile disappeared onto the other side.

"Asshole!"

Lawrence started to disturb the ground at his feet. Looking for another loose stone to throw. When he found nothing he started to pace. Calling and cursing at Crake to come back.

He could just walk away. He could leave Crake and the watch would force him to follow. But he could not. He couldn't leave him again or take away his free will, and Lawrence knew that Crake was using that against him. 

After he'd made tracks back and forth in front of the veiled wall he resigned he would follow. There was still thirty minutes left on the watch's charge and Lawrence did not have the patience to wait that long for Crake to come back. 

He drew a short breath and stepped over the threshold of the veil. It was like walking through one of the digistruct's; static jolted down his spine and all hair stood on end. The train tracks continued to run down a tunnel, just as Crake had said. He slowly walked away from the fading light of the entrance into its depths. The rock walls were lined with broken lighting and busted service doors. Lawrence never stopped cursing as he ventured deeper, and as he came upon a corner the familiar red glow of Crake shone in the cave's depth.

Crake was upon a ledge, sheet of metal ran along the ground indicating it was man-made. The AI was bent over, laser at work against the adjoining wall. 

"Crake, what the hell are you doing?!"

"There's a service door here. Hidden against the wall, but something is preventing me from going through it. Whatever technology it is, I'm not familiar with it. I'm going to open it."

"No," Lawrence snapped, "no you are not!"

Crake proceeded to ignore him and continued to work his laser.

"Crake!"

"I am not yours to command!" The AI shouted back. 

"That's not what I -" Lawrence stopped, the wall in front of Crake digitised away to reveal an iron cast door. The hinges were melted and barely hung together. Crake swiped his laser one last time and the door fell to the ground. Lawrence winced as a gush of air swept from behind and rushed into the room beyond. 

Silence fell through the tunnel as they both stared into the darker depths beyond.

"Door was pressurised," Crake commented dryly, breaking the eerie silence. 

"Must be ancient as fuck. How the hell did you get that open?"

The digistruct shrugged.

"Tania and her men use this tunnel. If this is a supply stop or base then we could utilise this. Sabotaging it could-"

"Sabotaging will do fuck all. That woman had a whole army at her command. So what if we take her off the map for this shitty gorge? She will have another hundred bases littered across Pandora."

"That may be. But you don't devour a whale in one bite. This is the first of many."

Lawrence knew that Crake would never stop. Whether it was part of his code lingering from his time as digi-Jack, or just his need for violence; Crake would endlessly hunt those who had hurt him. And if Lawrence wanted to stop him then he would have ignored the AI's wishes, turn around and walk out. Forcing him to follow. It was no better than tossing the watch. Lawrence dug his thumbs into his palms and tried to cut away his fear. 

"Ok." Lawrence grounded. "Ok, we can -" he drew a sharp breath, before continuing. "We can look around. Just...stay close, ok?" 

Once again Crake lit up at the notion. Just like shiny things for Nyx, the promise of blood for him got him in high spirits. 

Lawrence took a hesitant step up onto the ledge and stood beside the AI. Squinting, his eyes strained as he tried to adjust to the darkness. Crake's glow only lit a few feet in front of them, but it was enough to shine onto the ground. Lawrence looked down at the dismantled door. Eyes growing wide and breath catching in his throat as the details became clear. 

'DAHL' was graffitied across the door, masking out most of the Atlas logo behind it.

"Crake, do you recognise that writing?"

"It's the Dhal logo."

"Yeah. On top of an Atlas logo, on an Atlas door."

Crake frowned and looked at the door and then up at Lawrence. The AI would have the memories logs regarding the writing but sometimes humans just had the experiences to see the connects faster.

Lawrence could not so easily forget.

"That door is branded the same way Zarpedon branded all of Helios."

Crake focused his gaze downwards.

"Zarpedon was here."

Crake remained silent.

Lawrence adjusted his holster and stepped over the fallen door. Glancing back at Crake he looked like he wanted to say something, mouth slightly drawn open.

"Wait! Lawrence, maybe we shouldn't."

"Oh, fucking hell!" Lawrence rounded back. "You drag me all the way out here! Disregard MY feelings on the matter, bust down this door and NOW you want to turn back?!"

"That is rich coming from you! I'm dragged where ever YOU go! Never thought to ask where I might want to be?!"

"What do you want Crake?!"

The digistruct looked like he was ready to spit fire. So red he had become. Yet, Crake didn't answer, he only strode past Lawrence over the fallen door and marched into the darkness. 

Lawrence turned on heel and followed him in.

* * *

There was something terribly wrong with her mind. It had started with their escape from Tania. At first, Angel had resigned it was from over exerting herself, but that was almost a month ago and the headaches only seemed to be getting worse.

"It's just hasn't stopped!" Angel whined into her hands. 

Head pounding, she could feel her pulse through her fingers. So painful the headaches had become her vision would turn spotty and she'd find herself curled up unable to move for hours on end.

"Janey! When are we stopping for camp!" Nyx yelled from the back of the ute.

He hovered down at her level, hands around her shoulders. 

"It's ok. I'll get them to stop and so we can rest, ok Angel?"

Eyes closed she nodded her head. She wanted to thank him but all that came out was an irritable cry.

"Janey!" Nyx barked. Tone becoming eerily familiar and irritable. "Stop the truck! Dammit!"

The beating of the tray under her head began to slow and Angel let out a breath of relief as the truck came to a stop. The doors clattered open and shoes crunched on the dry earth. 

"Angel?"

She opened one eye. Janey hovered over the edge of the trailer, her face drawn in tight concern. 

Athena was next to approach.

"What is it?"

Angel opened her mouth to answer, yet Nyx saved her from more weariness.

"These headaches are getting worse. She needs rest. We need to make camp."

"We're only 12 more hours from Ellie’s, can she not-"

"No." Nyx snarled cutting Athena off. "We're stopping and making camp."

A tense moment of silence sent a ripple of cold air over her. Not daring to open an eye to look at the Gladiator, she huddled up into a tighter ball. 

"Ok, blue. We can stop." Janey forced a cheery tune. "Just let me at least find a safer place to park the ute, alright?"

Nyx must have accepted, as the doors of the ute swung shut and the engine came back to life. 

"Thank you," Angel whispered as another wave of static brushed her back.

When they made camp, Angel was last to leave the ute. Climbing down to the ground the world span as her mind tried to adjust to the new elevation and the lack of jarring movements and rumbling.

Athena did her rounds securing the area and Janey got to work setting up the fire. Despite being only mid-day in the cycle the sun was fading fast. The Dust was a terribly cold place in darkness. 

Nyx hovered close as she crawled into the swag Janey had prepared for her.

"Get some sleep. You need rest."

"Nyx, no I can't...every time I close my eyes...  _ everytime _ he is there..."

"I won't  _ ever _ let him get to you."

A current surged down her spine and when she opened her eyes Nyx had both his hands cupped around her face. Lying beside her he looked at her with his bright gem blue eyes.

"Jack will never hurt you again. You hear me? I won't let it happen."

Angel sniffed, and huddle closer.

"I might have failed Tim in that regard, but I won't fail you."

"Nyx...what if they never go away?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he 'goes away'"

"No. The headaches. What if they never stop?"

A loud huff exerted from across the camp. Athena had just jumped from a small ledge and was pacing over.

"I think I know what's causing them."

Wearily Angel sat up from her swag. Hands kneading the sleep from her eyes, she blinked, trying to focus on the older woman.

"You said you developed new powers while captive?"

She nodded.

"And you have no idea how to control these powers? Or even how to summon them once again?"

Angel hunched down and nodded again. Grief and shame were clinging to her like the very pipes and wires of Eridium that had once held her prisoner. 

"These headaches are likely a side effect of you suppressing control. Smothering your powers is not going to help. Sooner or later they will burst forth,.

Just as they had done back in Hollow Point, and out in the Dust before then, and many times before that. She'd taken more lives than just her mother's. Jack had more than one reason to keep her locked up and he had the death certificates to prove it. 

"Tomorrow we begin training."

"What!?" Angel sat back up. "No.. I don't think that's a good idea. If I lose control I could -"

"We can remove all our digital gear and keep it far away."

Nyx turned to her with an anxious frown. He would have to be sidelined if they were going to go through with this.

"If I can train the dregs of the Atlas corporation into killing machines I can handle some mishap Siren powers."

"Babe," Janey interjected. "You know I love you, but I don't think those two things are comparable in any regard."

Angel managed to wheeze out a little laugh at that. 

"Get your rest. Tomorrow we see what you can do."

"Ok."

The voice that left her lips was small and shaken, but a flutter of warmth, of hope, ignited inside of her. She needed to know what she could do. She needed to control her powers. 

It was the only way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm updating this fic early, as I could really do with a positive boost. Please leave a comment and let me know how you're finding the fic! What you love? Where you think things are going? Who are your faves?
> 
> I'm sure it hasn't escaped your attention that this fic is dedicated to my sister. She died suddenly and tragically last year. I started writing this fic 10 months after I lost her. Ironically, she was the writer of the family and she was damn brilliant at it too. I read one of her short stories at the funeral, but what she won't ever know is that I started writing too. Only after she passed away.
> 
> Next week would have been her 24th birthday. 
> 
> It doesn't get any easier. And maybe this fic was my way of coping? Perhaps that's why it has so much character death, violence and angst? Who knows.
> 
> For some reason, I felt like I needed to share that.
> 
> Ok back to fic writing. I"m going to channel all these feelings into some upcoming emotional hitting scenes. 
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) 
> 
> **Next Update:** Tim and Crake explore the Atlas compound and learn its secrets. Angel starts to learn how to fight and control her powers.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	37. Compound & Training Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new. Instead of a whole chapter with the boys or the girl gang you've got a mix of both.

The scattered remains of ammo cartridges, rusted tins, and broken shields caked the floor. Every step into darkness lead him into the belly of the beast. The grime-covered walls were waiting until he was too far gone, waiting to cave in and consume him forever.

Dust swirled forth making Crake appear more opaque than usual. The AI had dimmed his torch to conserve his battery but even that lit enough to reveal the grim remnants of the Atlas station.

Or whatever it was.

Their descent into the tunnel had so far provided no evidence that anyone had walked these halls in recent weeks... or even months.

Crake lingered a few feet ahead, carefully eying each and every corner for a threat, while Lawrence took his time shifting through the mess at his feet.

There were empty Ashin health kits _everywhere_.

They sat in piles, some broke under his boots and others had been stabbed into the walls. But what gave dread a reason to slither forth was the lack of blood and bodies. That detail couldn't escape him and all his mind wanted him to see was the small surgical trolley that had sat beside him in Tania's dungeon.

He ran a hand over the back of his forearm, tracing the thick raised lines of his Atlas Hello.

"Crake, I'm not… Too comfortable with this."

An admission Handsome Jack would never be able to make.

Crake swung around, eyes narrowing as if insulted and for one horrible moment Lawrence thought he was going to reprimanded for speaking out of turn. Crake opened his mouth and something was said, but he would never know what. As a voice that was far too bright and chirpy called to them from within the depths of the corridor.

"HELLO!"

Lawrence unholstered his pistol, and Crake brightened his flashlight and shone it forward. Heart jumping up a beat he felt the familiar tingle run down his arms as he tried to steady his aim.

"Hello," the bright voice called again.

Crake's light only just managed to pierce the darkness and Lawrence had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust. There, at the end of the corridor was a man dressed in plain grey linens. He stood attentively, arms folded in front of him, with discarded waste and broken glass at his feet.

"Hello!" the man piped for the third time.

He stepped forward and Lawrence flexed his fingers over the grip his weapon.

"Crake?" He whispered across hoping he'd have the answers regarding the man living in the dark.

Crake had none and merely shrugged.

He couldn't discern what it was, but something was terribly wrong with the stranger at the end of the hallway. Maybe it was the horrible dark stains across his sleeves or the slight hobble in his walk, or just his cheerful attitude in this dark abandoned tunnel.

When he finally reached the light the man’s eyes blinked out of sync, and the bright smile never left his face.

"Hello, visitors," he spoke as if greeting them to a fair.

"Ah, um hi?" Lawrence replied, all while never dropping his aim.

Crake, on the other hand, stepped forward. Holding the light up he shone it into the man's eyes. Lawrence squinted, but the man in front of them didn't seem affected nor bothered by the bright intrusion.

"He's an android."

Crake began to circle around the droid, lips pressed thin and eyes sharp he assessed their new company. "Atlas was known for keeping them around, never thought they would leave one here on Pandora."

The droid smiled appreciatively at the assessment and nodded. "Very good observation, I am in fact a model T-48 developed and designed by the Atlas corporation, though my friends call me Walter. You can call me Walter too if you like."

"Friends?" Lawrence scouted the darkness ahead.

"Oh, yes they are resting at the moment.” The droid pointed from where it emerged, but there was nothing but garbage and dark stained walls to observe. "I can introduce you later."

"Wait? Someone else is here? Who? The lost legion?!" Lawrence's weapon was now shaking in his hands.

"Fuck," he lowered his weapon and cursed again. "God fucking dammit." He eyed the android carefully. It was not armed, and by the looks of things, it was barely holding itself together. He holstered his weapon, and even that proved some difficulty as he clipped it back in place.

"Answer me droid, who is here?" His patience was long spent now that the tremors had disarmed him.

"My friends work here."

"Crake, I don’t trust such happy machines. Something isn’t right," Lawrence hissed.

Crake apparently shook off his concerns.

"Androids are harmless, even broken ones like this. If it's AI laws commanded it to attack intruders we would know of it by now."

"Oh great. Fucking great."

Lawrence grounded his teeth. Why on earth would there be a droid still functioning all the way out here?

"Droid -"

"My _name_ is Walter."

There was something off in the assertion. The way it insistent in its name but Lawrence couldn't fathom what it was. Crake appeared to notice it too and returned to his circling.

Crake always the predator and never the prey.

A stark contrast to himself. It wasn't until every wall he had built up had fallen down that he could see what he was to Jack. Lawrence bit the inside of his lip and shoved the memories of the other man aside.

"Ok, Walter is there anyone here who identifies as the Lost Legion? Or works for a woman named Tania," Crake lightly quired.

"I'm not sure." Walter's head momentarily jerked to the side before correcting itself. The very motion made Lawrence queasy.

"However, you're more than welcome to have a visitors pass and enter our facility. I, however, would have to accompany you the entire time."

Lawrence turned to Crake. Holding for some clarity on what was going on with the droid. Crake, however, had his arms crossed and was still thoroughly involved in his inspection.

"Tania's men travel through the tunnels, and apparently the Lost Legion was here too. I want to know what this is about."

"And I don't." Lawrence glared back.

"So you're going to walk away? Drag me along with you?"

"Fine! godammit, Crake whatever," Lawrence snapped exasperatedly. "Go explore your dark creepy hell hole with a fucking broken ass android." Lawrence wanted to tower over him, but that was impossible. Crake had always been a few inches taller. "I always thought it was Nyx who was going to get me killed but this is a next level suicide mission."

Crake said nothing, turned on heel and began to walk into the murky depths of the facility.

Lawrence closed his eyes and breathed out. He tried to smother his frustration. He knew Crake was lashing out because he had left him in behind, but his own knee-jerk reaction was to fight back in spite.

 _No_ , Lawrence thought, that was Jack's reaction. He was not going to sink to that level. He flexed his hands at his sides to wring out the tension, before sighing and approaching the droid.

"Ok, _Walter_ , if we follow you we can leave at any moment, right?"

"Of course! I couldn't imagine holding you against your will!"

"And there _are_ people here?"

"Yes!"

"Right, ok," Lawrence said more to himself for reassurance. He could do this. He had to make it up to Crake and if venturing into some dark pit so he could slaughter a bunch of people was how he was going to do it, so be it.

Walter abruptly raised a hand and the sudden movement caused Lawrence to reach for his holster.

"As long as you go through a screening first."

"Screening?"

Up ahead Crake stopped his decent. He turned around, eyes narrowing as he looked back.

"I need to make sure you're not carrying any infections or diseases. As only the healthy may pass through here. I must protect my friends." Walter took a step closer keeping his hand raised in the process. "This is very important."

"Um... Yeah, I'm not sure… I'm cool with that," Lawrence started, but Walter did not seem to process his hesitance. The elevated hand exposed a small device. A laser fired forth, scanning Lawrence from head to toe.

"Hey!" he shoved a fist forward trying to disrupt the scan. "Cut it out!"

"I'm sorry it appears you have a terrible ailment afflicting your system."

"Asshole! I didn't say you could do that!" Lawrence stepped back, hand raised between him and the droid. "This is why we never made fucking androids at Hyperion."

He mentally cursed, knowing the 'we' was in reference to him and Jack. Unlike Loaders; all it took was for one cybernetic to fail for a droid to enter the uncanny valley and become an unnerving presence.

Crake pixelated over.

Lawrence sighed, "stupid thing scanned me. I reckon it's picked up the Eridium sickness."

A blessing in disguise. Maybe Walter wouldn't let them pass after all, and he could go back to his camp, shoot skags and be left the fuck alone.

Walter became abruptly stiff, eyes downcast on it's hand as an array of broken looking data transmitted across it's palm. The code stopped and flashed away. The bright smile left it’s face and became even more unnerving as it tried to convey an emotion Lawrence could only assume was concern.

It looked more like it was constipated.

"You have a serious infection of Space-hurps. Please let me see to you." It took a step forward, and Lawrence jumped back.

"I may be sick, buddy, but it ain't space-hurps... So you can stay just there... Right there in front of me."

"This facility specialises in infectious diseases. I can assure you I am never wrong."

"Ok, time to leave." Crake grounded.

 _Finally_.

Lawrence resisted punching the air in success and bowed his head to conceal the stupid grin on his face. He was _actually_ looking forward to seeing Meatface's spit dripping muzzle and the wastelands of Pandora.

Walter's eerily benevolent voice called again.

"You really need to stay and let me care for you. Space-hurps is nothing to dally about with.”

"Look, I'm vaccinated against space-hurps. Your scanner is wrong," Lawrence waved off the droid as he turned back towards the exit, all while trying to conceal his enthusiasm in leaving.  

"That's impossible. There is no such thing. There is no vaccination for space-hurps."

"What a broken cyber-fuck," Lawrence cursed.

"I insist. You must come with me for medical treatment, to resist would require me to-"

He paused his departure and turned around to address the broken machine one last time.

"Look, I don't know how long you've been down here -" He gagged, breath caught in his throat as he blinked dumbly at the Atlas Android.

"I'm sorry, but your resistance has been noted and I must take action."

"Lawrence, what's the holdup?" Crake called.

But he could not reply. The fucking thing had procured a needle, which was now embedded deep into his neck.

"Tim?" Crake asked again.

Walter pressed down the plunger and the contents of the needle surged into his veins. Lawrence could only blink and stare at the brightly smiling ‘man’.

Red bloomed across his peripheral vision and yet he could say nothing. The world swam in front of him, turning cloudy as the droid's broken cybernetics glitched in front of him.

Everything was black before he fell to his knees. Blindly he groped for the needle and pulled it out of his neck.

"Cr... Crake..."

His throat was closing in, suffocating him.

The last thing he heard was Crake screaming his name and the same chirpy voice of the droid.

"Not to worry! I'm taking you to the medical bay."

* * *

She didn't precisely know why she was doing it, but for whatever purpose, the bracelet ended up serving it was cathartic. Angel had rarely creating things by hand before. All her work was in code, a digital realm that she could control and shape at her will. Winding pieces of leather around the smoothed pieces of glass was proving to be a challenge but after days of sitting in the back of the truck with nothing better to do, she was beginning to master her craft. The leather was taken from the ends of her shoelaces and was carefully wound around the glass to make a small bracelet. She made one for herself, Janey and Athena.

There was one for Nyx. Though that bracelet was kept safe in her gear chip until she had the means to "give" it to him.

She held it out for Nyx to inspect.

"Very nice. So when do I get to wear one?" It was impossible to miss the pleading inflection in his voice.

"Soon, Nyx. I promise. There has to be a way to get you a body."

"I don't want to be thrown in some random droid or a loader." He flicked his hands through the sand at their feet irritably. "I still want to look like me."

Angel didn't say it allowed that it amused and worried her that he was so content on looking like a younger Jack.

"That's... likely the only option Nyx."

He screwed his face up and looked to the ground.

"Can't I just get a digistructed body?"

"You can't just digistruct cells, and blood out of nothing," Felicity announced from her echo. "Even loaders and cars have their parts taken from storage, only to be assembled when called upon"

Felicity was right, but also wrong. In theory, it was possible. But it was a task few had undertaken and no one had succeeded. There were digistructed droids, and holograms, but never anything that could pass as human. The program needed to generate and produce a functioning body was an immense, almost unfathomable amount of work.

Angel frowned, and a drew a long breath. Just thinking of all the code needed to make a white blood cell work was exhausting.

"Yeah but what if there was just a giant bucket of human goop, and you digistructed me out of it?"

"Ewww! Come on Nyx, That's not happening. Do you have any idea how long it would take me to build the program to do that? And secondly, where would we even keep said 'goop'?"

He shrugged with a coy look across his face.

"I dunno. In Handsome Jack's shower head? That way, every time he showers he gets a bit of goop on his -"

"That's disgusting," Angel cut him off.

Nyx returned to playing with the sand.

"So droid body it is?"

Angel nodded slowly. "Most likely. But we will find the best manufacturer! You can look however you want. I promise you, I'll find you something that you're comfortable in."

"We need to leave Pandora. No one makes droids here."

Nyx was right about that. She could easily put him into a discarded android, or a Hyperion loader, or assemble some mix match parts, but it would never look like 'Nyx'.  She knew a solution was going to be needed soon. Every day the AI grew more restless. His confinement to the digistruct device and the loss of his brother was clearly wearing him down.

It was why AI laws were never removed.

"As long as it's not a loader," Felicity said sourly. "I was only in one for a short amount of time, but it was awful. Walking is such a surreal and unpleasant experience."

"I hate walking," Nyx flicked at a pebble and watched it remained untouched. "Pixelating around is so much more fun."

"Well, you also won't be able to do that in a body. Things will be REALLY different."

"I know." He sighed, "but different is good, it's gotta be better than this." He raised his hands and inspected his translucent palms. "Plus I can't get laid like -"

Athena thankfully returned from her scouting. Angel did not need to hear any more of Nyx's body fantasies he had already shared too much about the possibilities of Moxxi's boobs. The Gladiator gave Janey a quick peck before striding over.

"You haven't eaten your breakfast. You need a full stomach for today." Though Athena was trying to look out for her, she could not drop her authoritative tone.

The plate of fried salted beans remained mostly untouched beside her. The dish was becoming stale and the novelty of home cooked meals had long worn off.

"I'm not hungry."

" _Eat_."

Angel groaned irritably and took another mouthful. That was all the gladiator was going to get out of her. Athena pouted and waited for her to take another bite. The standoff continued for a few more seconds, the air becoming thicker as Angel glared at her breakfast. Thankfully all was disrupted by Janey.

"Let's unleash the powers of the cosmos!"

She jumped forward cheering loudly and kicking the earth at her feet.

"Yeah!" Nyx joined her. Leaping as far as the limits of the digistruct device let him.

Angel took advantage of the brief distraction and tipped the last of her food into the sand before Athena could utter another word.

"I'm ready," she said. Though she was not.

The coils of anxiety had rendered her stomach in knots. If she'd eaten any more it would have likely ended up coming back up and in the sand with the rest of it.

"Ok, everyone strip off your digital gear."

Nyx's movements slowed and he quietened down at hearing Athena's command.

"I'm sorry, Nyx." Angel unclipped the device and carefully placed it under the covers of her swag.

Nyx’s enthusiasm for training continued to wilt as he stared at the abandoned device.

"I won't be gone for long, I promise."

He nodded.

"Be safe."

Angel smiled brightly and moved to hug him. It was still awkward trying to wrap her arms around him. She mostly ended up in his chest cavity with all her hair standing on end. He rested a hand on her shoulder and gazed down.

"You'll do great, Angel."

 _Kiddo_.

The word ran through her head. Jack would have said 'kiddo' at the end. Nyx used her name and it stilled the tightness in her stomach at hearing it.

Next, she unclipped her echo.

' _Good luck, dear,'_ Felicity's message silently called out to her.

_'Keep Nyx company for me!'_

The AI laughed on the other end, before agreeing.

"Alright. Let's do this." Janey tossed her gun, shield and echo to the side before clasping her hands together enthusiastically.

The two women led her away from camp, over a small ridge and down into a sandy gully.

"Right." Athena turned on heel, hands on hip. "Explain to me every thing that happened when you first used your powers."

"Like...recently? Or...when I was little?"

She did not want to talk about her childhood. Yes, she'd affirmed she would not be like Tim and build up walls but diving into such topics with the ex-assassin was too much too soon.

Nyx and Felicity reserved that right.

"What happened when you escaped from that Tani woman."

"Tania, babe." Janey corrected.

_I burned away her face._

Though they were some distance from the camp Angel swore she could smell smoke, and a burning meal. He stomached turned over and she bent in half and gagged.

"Angel!" Janey rushed over and placed a hand on her should. "Are you ok?"

Tania's flesh stretched off her face. Melted into the grated iron flooring. Revealing bone and her hollowed cheeks. Angel's pale hands spasmed into fits and it wasn't until Janey was screaming her name did she realise her tattoos were alight. So bright they had become she couldn't see past her arm.

"Angel! It's ok! Try to channel it!" Yet, Janey's voice was slowly getting further and further away. The hands that were once around her were gone and she was alone.

They were afraid of her.

She flicked out her left wrist as if to shake off the surging energy running down her arm.

"ANGEL!" Athena roared. "Control it!"

_How?!_

She needed... Someone... Anyone by her side...

_Nyx... Felicity... even... Tim._

She clung to her hair, pulling out strands as she cried. Splinters were in her mind, twisting in deep and with every breath the ability to see clearly was lost.

A tiny voice. So small whispered across her mind.

' _Let me out,_ ' it begged.

The explosion rocketed off every surface in the gully. The sound would have been heard for miles on end. Dust filled her lungs as she sunk to her knees and tears tracked down her face.

"Angel!?" A voice called. Hands wrapped around her again and pulled her to her feet. Athena gripped her shoulders and her eyes trailed over her face.

"I'm sorry. I -I did not know."

She shook her head slowly and sank away from her the woman's embrace.

"No more," she whispered before her mind gave out and she collapsed to the ground.

* * *

The familiar tingling sensation of one of the digistructs surged up his arm. Though when Lawrence opened his eyes, Crake was sitting back with his hands at his sides.

"We've got to... Stop waking up like, like this." Lawrence murmured. He frowned his speech was slurred. Wincing he tried to lean forward and clear the fog from his mind.

"What happened?"

Crake growled low, "the android drugged you."

"Oh, well that explains why I feel so good."

"And brought you to the medical bay."

"What?!" His eyes grew wide, and a feral feeling swept across him. Throwing himself up from the cot he made for the edge of the bed.

"It's ok, nothing happened," Crake called to him, but he could scarcely hear what was said afterwards.

His hand was around the back of his neck scratching at the skin to make sure the port was still concealed. Next, he checked his arms for an injection site, though relief did not come when he found none.

"I've been here since you arrived at the medical bay."

"Arrived?!" He leaned closer, "You left me alone with that crazy fuck?!"

"The watch failed shortly after he drugged you... But I've been in the bay the whole time, nothing has happened." Crake words did little to reassure him.

"I need. I need to get out of here. Now, Crake we need to leave. I can't, I can't be here!" He tried to latch onto the front of Crake's Jacket only for his hands to fall into him,

Crake nodded knowingly. "Ok, you're ok. Nothing happened."

"Nothing that you saw," he muttered bitterly, digging his thumbs into his palms to stop himself cursing again.

"We can leave now. Ok? Tim?"

He nodded and groaned loudly; he was still trying to get his bearings. The drugs in his system made his movements sluggish and his mind dizzy.

"Though," Crake started and eyed Lawrence carefully, "the watch's power is failing. I've been here for some time. I need to go for a bit to recharge. After that, we can leave?"

"No. Fuck that, come on! You said you already left!?"

"And now I need to go again. You know how it works..."

"No! You can't drag me to this place and then bail."

Crake said nothing, though his eyes shifted downwards and his hand sat tensely in his lap.

"It won't take long. I'll still be able to connect to the echo."

"Fuck." Lawrence chewed the inside of his mouth and scouted about the room. Everything was covered in dust and the lighting dim. Worst of all, it still held that sterile smell that awoken his primal fears. More nonconsensual surgeries, more people touching and prodding him, filling him with Eridium. To make him 'perfect' again.

"Lawrence? I'm going to go now."

He did not like that idea. He did not want to be alone in this ancient medical room. But he also did not wish to venture outside without Crake.

Lawrence shuddered but nodded slowly. "Whatever. Fine. Just come back as soon as you can, ok? "

Crake moved his hand, it landed close to his and he felt the tingle from the static.

"I will."

He worried the inside of his lip, "and stay connected to my echo... Please?"

"Of course."

"Thanks..."

"I'll see you soon." Crake flashed away and disappeared into the watch.

The moment he was gone Lawrence cursed loudly.

He huddled in on himself, hands across his knees. He hated to be seen like this by anyone. Though Crake might be an exception. The AI knew it all. He knew everything that had happened between him and Jack and was one of the few who understood. Lawrence slowly shifted up into a sitting position before he buried his head in his hands. Groaning deep to push away the restlessly feeling across his joints.

A message popped up on his comm, it seemed Crake was staying with him after all.

‘ _This base is pre-Hyperion settlement, I'd put half this equipment at 12, to 15 old years_ ,' the message read.

When he pulled away and looked around it appeared Crake was right. The Atlas symbol was etched into the back of some unknown lamp looking thing, and a green and black stained curtain hung at his side.

_'Where's our crazy android friend?'_

Lawrence drew back the curtain and eyed each corner of the room carefully. Androids were known to be silent observers. Waiting to be needed or called upon.

_'He left to run more diagnostics on me.'_

_'On you?'_ Lawrence raised a brow.

_'Seems he's never meet another AI before and doesn't quite know what to make of me. So far he's concluded I am either dead or an alien species that his system cannot register.'_

Lawrence chuckled at that, _'really? And what about me?'_

_'Not everything is about you Lawrence :) '_

He laughed at Crake's feeble joke and use of emoji, thinking back, he realised that may be a first

'The android is still convinced you're infected with space-hurps. Though interestingly, he has said nothing of your Eridium sickness...'

_'Yeah, well he's broken AF.'_

'This base was built well before Eridium was discovered on Pandora, I don't think his system can pick up the Eridium in your cells.'

Lawrence laughed loud at that. _'Ok, that is fricken weird. Anything else you picked up on while I was out?'_

_'The android talks too much. Please don't leave me alone with him again.'_

As much as Lawrence wanted to stay awake and keep texting Crake, he could not hold back the exhaustion on his mind. Whether it was from his previous panic attack or the drugs in his system, he didn't know. He found himself reluctantly laying back in the cot, desperately trying to keep his eyes open and his mind awake.

He messaged back and forth some more. Crake even suggested they could play chess on his echo though he did not have the mental strength for that. Soon after his body succumbed to fatigue and he was softly snoring on the cot.

If he dreamt he did not recall the details. A rarity, but a blessing. Dreamless sleeps was all he could hope for.

Something shot up his arm, it was mildly discomforting, and Lawrence reasoned it was Crake back at his side again. He mumbled the AI's name before he winced and tried to focus in the faint light.

"Crake?"

"No, I'm sorry it seems your red friend is not here. It's Walter, I'm here to take care of you."

Lawrence's eyes were wide open again, and to his horror, he found there was a needle and an IV lodged in his arm. Walter leaned over him, smiling widely and showing too much teeth.

"Get away from me!" He struggled, yet found he could not move.

"I'm sorry. We have no more sedatives, and with your current body temperature at 36.9, you're likely experiencing severe delirium and possible hallucinations. I've taken precautions."

"What the fuck!?" Lawrence kicked and remained unable to budge off the cot.

His wrists and ankles were strapped to the bed. His heart pounded erratically as he tried to curl up in a ball. The leather dug deep into his skin, leaving red faint red marks over his scarred flesh.

"No, no, no," Lawrence whispered a desperate plea. "CRAKE!"

He struggled forward and called again.

"FUCK! CRAKE! Fuck! Help me!"

"Please sir, you must calm down, this is all completely normal. You're experiencing a severe fever."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Lawrence hissed back.

His eyes darted between the android and the watch on his wrist. His hands curled feverishly, and his nails dug into his flesh to distract himself from the panic curdling inside of him.

"You need a blood transfusion, from a healthy source. I've already drawn the blood, and this should not take long."

Lawrence saw it now, the metal hook hanging above the bed with a drip line connected to his arm.

"Oh, god, oh fuck, you fucking android shit."

Walter ignored his insults and retrieved a small plastic bag from an esky and proceeded to hang it above him. The blood inside the bag - if he could even call it that - was not red, but black, coagulated and had a closer appearance to human sick than liquid.

"Is that infected blood?" Lawrence cried out. "Walter! Is that blood infected with space-hurps?!"

"Its blood from a healthy and willing donor." Walter delivered him a radiant smile and connected the drip line to the bag.

"Oh, fuck, no, no... You can't, no... You really can't put that in me."

He gagged at the thought of the thick black substance oozing through his veins. He started to hyperventilate. Soon he was choking from the bile and spasms surging up his stomach.

"CRAKE!"

A flash of red sparked forth, relief was already washing over him as Crake pixelated to his side.

"Lawrence I -"

He disappeared again. The battery had not charged.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Crake sparkled forth again, and this time he was visible for even less time.

The drip was now connected. The black substance slowly squeezed down the line. This time he was sick, and he hurled forward to cough up bile over the side of the cot.

"It will be over soon, with this transfusion the infection should clear from your system and your body temperature will rise to a normal level."

"R-rise?" Lawrence wheezed and spat out another mouthful of bile.

"Yes." Walter nodded with a discerning look. "Rise. Your body temperature is far to low. At 36.9 degrees it's a miracle you're even still alive. Optimal temperature is 45.8"

"The fuck!? Walter, I do not consent to this." Lawrence struggled forth, so he was sitting up as far as the restraints allowed him. "Walter LOOK at me. I DO NOT consent."

"Your delirious, I'm sorry but you are my patient, and this is the best treatment I can provide."

He felt like he was going to cry or be sick again, or both. The 'blood' was halfway down the line; lined with puss, and other unknown contents.

"Walter!" Lawrence snapped and tugged at the leather belts around him. "Please, stop the treatment."

The Android paused, "I'm sorry. I must do what is right."

"Crake?!" Lawrence cried again and struggled against his restraints.

He couldn't decide on what to follow. The infected blood oozing towards him or the timer on the watch trying to recharge. Crake had still not come to his aid. He slammed his head back into the pillow and cried out one last time.

The transfusion had almost reached his body.

"Crake!" Lawrence screamed and his plea was answered. The digistruct surged forth with a blast of magenta pixels.

Crake's eyes grew wide, fear ran across his features before they smoothed out into his typical expression of determined focus. Walter protested as Crake emitted a laser in his hand and severed the drip line. The pustule blood trickled onto the faded linen next to him. It was rancid and smelt of pure death and decay. Lawrence gagged again and leaned away as Crake began to laser off the bounds.

Walter was trying to hold and restrain Crake to no avail.

"You need to stop! He must receive treatment!"

"Fucking AI's" Crake growled at his own kind.

The moment Lawrence was free he threw himself to the floor and began to crawl away from the cot. He curled forward and buried his head against the cool tiles, sweat ran down his cheeks, and his own hot pants blasted back at him as he hyperventilated.

Crake's laser fired three times before a loud crash came from behind. Lawrence carefully drew himself up and glanced over his shoulder. The android was collapsed on the ground with the green curtain draped over him. Crake holstered his weapon and marched to his side.

"The watch is scarcely charged. I can't stay. I'm so sorry." Crake babbled, and Lawrence realised he'd never heard him speak so swiftly.

When Lawrence gave no reply, he snapped at him.

"Tim!? Did he hurt you? Are you ok?"

Lawrence could barely nod his head. His body too consumed with adrenaline to move or listen to him.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm ok. Thanks, buddy, that... That was so fucking close."

Crake reached for Lawrence's arm and tried to turn it over, he obliged, and he studied the injection site.

"I'm scanning you to be sure none of it got in."

Lawrence nodded meekly, he was always glad Crake could take control of the situation.

A moment passed before he spoke again. "You're good. You're ok. Nothing got in."

Lawrence let out a shuddered breath, yet there was no relief.

"I should not have left, I shouldn't have-"

"It's ok," Lawrence spoke over Crake. He blew out another deep breath, "we always make it, right?"

Crake did not laugh. "That was too close."

"Let's get the fuck out of here then."

"Agreeing to that."

Crake lent forward to support him up, but as always it didn't help at all. Though the digistruct's efforts made him smile fondly.

He checked on the android before leaving the room. Crake had certainly incapacitated him. Well, at least for the moment. Who knew how many more lingered around, or what repair stations were still available?

"Come on." Crake said with a hand on his shoulder. The static guided him out of the room. Lawrence adjusted his holster and scouted the halls. Nothing looked familiar.

"Any.... um uh, idea where we are?"  Lawrence found himself falling into his old speech patterns. Stress had a way of doing that.

Crake offered his palm and revealed a map, though vastly incomplete.

"I could only map what I saw until the watch died."

"Right, well better get walking then."

"I can't."

"What?"

"The battery."

"Fucking dammit. When will it be fully charged.?"

"Not long, I'll come back as soo-"

Crake was cut off and disappeared back into his digital realm and Lawrence cursed loudly.

"Asshole," he muttered to himself as he checked his echo.

' _I heard that._ ' Crake's message flashed across the screen.

Lawrence checked the timer. He only had twenty minutes to survive before the watch was fully charged. He could do this.

It was just an abandon Atlas base with a creepy broken android.

He had faced worse things.

* * *

The voices which had once been an unpleasant distraction were now fueling her headache. Angel curled up tighter in her swag. Desperate to ignore the argument between the two AI's and women.

"What did you do?!"

It was her father's voice not at all like Nyx's. Tone deeper, more threatening and void of any empathy.

Angel trembled and pulled her hands over her ears, yet it did nothing to block out the voices.

"There was always a possibility something like this could happen, I tried to -" Athena was abruptly cut off.

"ENOUGH! Do not put her through that again!" Nyx hissed and if Angel had not seen his dazzling blue light through her eyelids she could have sworn it was Jack.

Though a threat from Jack was almost regarding his previous projects. Never concerning her.

Felicity joined the fray, as did Janey and soon Angel could hear nothing but thumping of her heart and the barking of angry voices.

She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep. She may have gotten a few minutes of rest before the blue next to her became too intense to ignore.

"Nyx?" she stirred awaked and pulled down the covers of her swag.

He stood next to her, fists clenching at his sides, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. The moment of fury had come and gone and suddenly Nyx became smaller, lowering himself on the ground, fingers clenching at the knees and eyes closed. As angel focused her gaze she noticed small shivers raking his frame.

“Nyx? Are you... Ok?” She asked softly, hand hovering just above his elbow.

“No,” he answered shortly and then shook his head, smiling. “It's cool. How are you?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Angel answered and sat up, rubbing her forehead. The headache had subsided enough to become a dull throb in the back of her skull and she could breathe again.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Nyx snorted as he kept fiddling with his fingers. Angel noted that he did not wear Jack's ring. Twirling it around his index finger was a stress habit her father had. Oddly enough. Tim did not wear the ring either. She wondered when he took it off, she could not recall ever seeing it.

Nyx abruptly halted her thoughts.

“I should be with you when you train. Athena should not have put so much pressure on you."

"She didn't... Really," Angel confessed. All the Gladiator had done was asked when her powers came forth and that was all it took.

It was the memory of Tania's face that gave a reason for her powers to bloom across her arm. She ended up blowing apart a tunnel through the side of the gully and if Athena and Janey had been in its path she would have torn them limb from limb just like she did to Tania's men.

Nyx growled quietly, his anger boiling over once again.

"I'm going with you next time."

"Nyx," Angel pleaded, "you can't. I can't risk hurting you. Remember what happened when I destroyed the cloaking device?"

Nyx looked away, but Angel knew he would not have forgotten.

"You told me it was like I was tearing up your metaphorical insides."

"Yeah... I remember." Then he smiled. "That's when we first met."

Angel hummed, "it wasn't the best introduction."

"Crake was so cold... and grouchy back then."

"As opposed to now?" Angel jeered.

"My bro can be... 'nice' when he wants to be." He gazed down at her. "He cares..."

Angel slowly shifted back into the covers of her swag. It was probably true. Crake did seem to be overly protective of Tim and he stood his ground with her against Tania.

And Nyx?

Angel closed her eyes and thought of how far he had come, and it only just occurred to her that he was in an argument. As far as she could recall he had always stood back, fled into the watch or avoided all confrontation.

Yet, today he had defended her.

"Night, Nyx" she yawned and buried herself deeper into the swag.

"Goodnight Angel."

* * *

Tim complained and he complained a lot.

"More freaky empty halls, yup. Loving this vibe Crake," he called out.

Crake listened in through the echo. He tried to disregard Tim's commentary and focus on the sounds, the little details around them. Yet the base was silent.

A detail that concerned him greatly.

"Come on buddy, don't bother with a full recharge come on out?"

It did, however, amuse him greatly that Tim whined like a child at his absence. There were only a few minutes left and so he resigned he would make Tim wait it out.

"Fuck, Crake, ok time to come out for real now. You need to look at this."

Crake weighed the situation before deciding to accept Tim's request. He digitised from the watch. A feeling he'd never really get used to. To have his mind released into the corporeal world was a strange feeling.

"Where are we? What am I looking at?" Crake directed arms crossed. He did not appreciate being taken away from his charging process.

The feeling was quickly banished when Tim's face lit up at his approach.

"Dunno. I just wandered around, and um, this."

He pointed to the wall beside them. It was covered in a thick black substance, it spread like an infection, oozing to the floor.

Crake moved closer to inspect it. When Tim made to join him he threw an arm in front.

"Don't touch it." Crake sighed. Something he noted he was doing a lot more of, even if it meant nothing. "God fucking dammit."

"What?"

"That." Crake jabbed a finger at the rotting wall. "Is the organic version of Space-hurp. Ophiocordyhurps."

Tim took a few decent sized steps back.

"Fuck, all of it? I've been breathing this shit in?"

"You're vaccinated. You should be fine."

Tim hummed sarcastically. "I'm really feeling your confidence."

Crake rolled his eyes.

"Did you - Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Tim barked with laughter and moved closer.

"Yes," he growled, "move aside, and keep your damn voice down."

Though they had seen no evidence of human life, Crake was not one to dismiss the possibility of another threat lurking in the darkness.

Tim only shrugged and stepped away so Crake could inspect the wall closer. He produced his laser and pried off part of the plaster, underneath was a sight that even made the AI understand the notion of sickness.  The inner walls were smothered in green boils and dark matter. So thick the infection was that it moved as if it had a mind of its own; in a way, it did.

He cut away deeper into the opposing wall.

"Woah, what are you doing?"

"I want to see the other side," Crake grounded.

His laser was thankfully quieter than an axe and worked fast against the decay. Soon after a chunk of the opposing wall began to crumble revealing the chamber on the other side.

He heard them first, the insanity in their cries and shrieks of women and men turned mad. Peeking through the hole the scene beyond revealed its morbid details. A handful of infected ran down a staircase, many were missing limbs, partially decaying or covered in boils. Their mouths were stained black, eyes almost closed over from the pustules, and barely any clothes remained.

"How many do you count?" Tim whispered.

"Three, though I'm picking up six voice signatures. I just can't see them."

"Ok." Tim glanced nervously between the hole and Crake. "If it comes to it I think we can handle that many."

"This is likely a very large base, Lawrence, I don't think we will be handling just six," Crake warned.

"Fucking great, you red asshole! I never wanted to come here!"

"Neither did I!"

"What?!" Tim spluttered, recoiling back. "You asshole, you practically _dragged_ me here."

"I want..." Crake shook his head. He had his reasons for coming, but most of all he wanted Tim to push away and return to where he was meant to be.

"I wanted to go back to my brother!" Crake finally admitted springing closer to Tim. "And you! You need to go back to Angel."

"The hell does she have to do with this?!"

"You need to be with her. Saving her... Was the only good thing either of us has ever done. You need that. Hell, I need that! I've never done - "

A non-coherent scream echoed down the hall stopping Crake mid-sentence. It was only when silence fell between them that he realised how loud they had been yelling.

The silence did not persist, and a moment later the scream rang out again, only this time it was louder.

"We need to get out of here." Tim unholstered his Jakobs pistol and steady his stance.

The barrage of dragging feet and gargled screams drowned out the hall. It appeared an army of decaying flesh was approaching.

Crake considered there options; hide or fight. Fighting would consume the battery faster; hiding would only prolong the inevitable and if they were found when the watch was at its weakest, then Tim would be at risk.

He could not have that.

He too unholstered his weapon and took aim down the hall.

"We should stay and fight."

"Whatever," Tim grounded and took aim as well.

There was no cover for Tim, save for a discarded trolley on the side. Crake gestured to it and he made to move it front of him.

They came as a horde. Scrambling to get through the hole in the wall, more sounded like they were trying to break down another wall. Tim rammed the trolley into them, hoping to block their path but it did more damage than good. The decay was too vast and soon the wall began to collapse.

Crake took out a man between the eyes. Black brain matter seeped through the bullet hole but the shot did little to halt his advancement. He fired another five rounds until the infected's head was blown off. Only then did his body still.

Tim's bullets were not faring much better. What concerned Crake further was how loudly his shots were echoing down the hall.

"Stop shooting! Let me handle this, you're making too much noise."

Tim scoffed, "and let you have all the fun?" But he heeded the advice and dropped his weapon to his side.

Crake steady his aim, and was ready to claim another kill when something abruptly rushed through him. Swinging around he tried to find the source of the intrusion.

Walter.

The droid was in a new body, and it appeared he was trying to tackle Crake to the ground. Little good it did. He shrugged off the assault and returned to the infected herd.

"Do not hurt my friends!" The droid wailed.

Tim raised his weapon and kept it aimed at Walter's head.

"No more sudden movements, droid."

"My name is Walter!" It barked back. Voice almost breaking.

Almost human sounding.

Though, there was no time for such squabbles. Crake turned back to the broken wall. More were coming, and soon the plaster and trolley would not hold them back.

"You must stop!" Walter jumped in front of the barrel of his rifle. "They mean you no harm! You're just scaring them!"

"Crake, fucking shoot him," Tim whined from the side.

Something strange came to Crake. A feeling that he did not recognise, not yet anyway. He lowered his weapon.

"Get your friends away from us, Walter." Though he dropped his aim there was still a lingering threat within.

Walter scurried on the spot and almost buried himself into the wall. Tim slowly approached his side, standing on his tiptoes to watch the droid speak to the infected.

It was surreal. It was up there as one of the weirdest things Crake had ever seen and he'd seen a lot considering he'd been in a Vault.

"Go now," Walter whispered. "Go back to sleep. I'll tend to you later. Please sleep." He even cupped the cheek of one of the infected men lovingly and waved to them as they ventured back into the dark depths.

They actually listened to him.

Walter started to sniff loudly. Was he... Crying?

The droid pulled the body Crake shot from the wall. Walter laid the dead infected man down and slowly positioned him into a resting position.

"His name was Mark Winchester. He was the head chef from the kitchens." Walter said as he adjusted the dead man's coat. "Now he's gone."

"He's ah, been dead for a while I think," Tim said rather crudely. "I mean, at least brain dead."

Crake gave Tim a cold stare but said nothing.

"Leave me... Please..." Walter looked up at them. His broken cybernetics flinched under his jaw, but there was no mistaking the hurt on the droid's face.

Crake eyed the droid for a moment longer before turning to Tim.

"You ok? Any of them get you?"

"Just peachy."

Tim ran a hand through his hair but stopped short at his neck. Pulling it away and shoving in in pockets.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Thanks for saving my ass again."

"I will always save you...It's my -  It's what I want to do."

Tim kept his eyes downcast. Shoes nudging the scraps at his feet. He huffed before trailing back down the hall. Though, Crake noted he spared a glance at Walter.

"I'm... sorry about your friend."

Walter sniffed and nodded, but said nothing.

Crake followed suit. He felt like it was appropriate to say something but he did not know what.

He pixelated over to Tim to catch up.

"Lawrence, we need to go back."

Tim didn't reply and only adjusted his holster. A nervous tick; Crake knew them all.

"Lawrence," Crake was firmer and stalked in front of his path. "When we get out of this place, we need to go back to the others."

"Then what was the fucking point of this detour!?"

Crake shrugged his shoulders. For the first time in his existence, he didn't really have a plan. Save for the fact he couldn't stand watching Tim shoot skags for another minute. Hunting Tania and her men was merely a distraction from what he really wanted.

He wanted to go 'home'. Where ever that was.

"Fucking fuck!" Tim snapped realising Crake's lack of plan and motivation.

It wasn't wise to laugh at their misfortune, but he did. Crake chuckled deeply, a feeling both alien and refreshing.

"I don't know why we're here Tim. I just didn't want to be out hunting skags... Hunting Tania was just an excuse to get away from that."

"You're a fucking asshole, fuck, stop laughing! Fucking hell you cunt!" Tim jabbed a finger at him. But with every curse his voice raised and it was becoming increasingly harder for him to keep up his angry performance.

"Go on, call me a red cunt. I know you want to."

"Fuck You. You. Red. Cunt." Lawrence broke and swore loudly with a huff of laughter. "So what now asshole?"

"We go back to the others. I want to see my Brother."

Tim stilled, the smile fading from his face as quickly as it came. It was almost not recognisable, the small nod, but Crake never missed a thing.

"Ok," he said weakly. "Let's find the damn beast, she's probably turned my backpack inside out looking for food... After that... We can go back..."

These conversations, these 'human' concerns for Tim were a strain on Crake's mind. Was that why he was becoming less perceptual? Too focused on Tim's mental wellbeing to take in what was happening around them. His original purpose was to scout ahead, detect any threats and eliminate them before they reached him.

And he wasn't doing that any more.

Crake would later reason that was the case as he did not see nor hear the infected woman creeping up behind them.

He didn't react fast enough.

Tim's head was jerked back and his body convulsed as rotten black teeth drove into his flesh. The infected woman twisted in deep before she tore away and took a chunk of Tim's jacket and shoulder with him.

Tim drew a sharp breath, eyes glassy before he screamed and fell against the wall.

He smeared blood everywhere and Crake knew he had failed.

He had failed to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a whopping 8600 word chapter! Would love to hear from you. I'm so excited to start this new story ark. It's a mystery dungeon side quest! and Space-Hups, cause I love me some zombie like horror. 
> 
> Please take the time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it!
> 
> And yes, Walter is named after Walter from Alien: Covenant. Thanks to Eternal-Garbage for the name and writing some Nyx for me.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** )   
> **Next Update:** Is Tim infected? Crake deals with the consequences and the mystery of Walter. Angel's past creeps up on her again.
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	38. Compound & Training Part II

"You're drunk."

"Bingo, kiddo!" Jack flicked his fingers and jabbed them at his chest. "Want to know why?"

Angel shook her head and lingered back in her chamber. Jack rarely drank and when he did it was the result of nothing good.

"Come on, darling, come here." Jack beckoned her with a soft, welcoming smile. A smile which never reached his eyes; those remained cold and distant. 

"I want... I want to be alone,” she whispered. She didn't bother to raise her voice even if Jack heard her plea he would not listen.

"Oh, we are  _ alone _ now."

Angel said nothing. She stood behind her bed, using it as the last obstacle between him and her father.

"See your little accident last month was kinda the tipping point for her."

"Her?"

"Helen, dum dum," Jack jeered, "She's gone."

"What?" Angel pulled away from the wall and started to approach. Helen had just visited her a few days ago. She'd promised to talk to Jack about letting her attend school. A real school, with other kids her age! And homework! And recess!

"Helen is gone, she fled, poof, disappeared, gone bye byes." Jack drawled before he leaned against the reinforced door of her chamber. 

"Gone where!?"

"Well, between you and me kiddo, she's gone where mommy is." Jack offered her a sloppy wink.

Angel's tiny heart stilled. Her breathing became erratic, and she felt her world circle around her. If Jack being drunk was an irregularity than the mentioned of her mother was an even rarer occurrence. She couldn't recall the last time she even heard her name.

_ Claire. _

Jack was still talking, rambling off the cover story for Helen. Angel wish she didn't know the details, but Jack, unfortunately, told her everything.

He said honesty and trust were all they had, besides each other.

"let's say she fled off the planet," Jack huffed out before landing in the large armchair. It was old and worn but rarely used these days. She was tied to her computer and Jack didn’t sit to read to her any more.

"I don't understand." Angel gripped the side of her bed, he hands clung into the covers. "Why did she leave?"

"Because of you," Jack whispered bitterly, and the smile left his face. His eyes met her, and they remained just as sharp as before. Like knives, his eyes could cut her down. Shave away the layers until she was exposed with nowhere to hide or flee. 

“She left because of  _ you _ ," Jack snarled, hands digging into the armchair. "She wanted to tell the world our little secret. Angel, she wanted to expose you." Jack leaned forward and buried his head in his hands, groaning loudly before continuing.

"She would have you taken away from me, and I… I can't have that."

Angel stared at her shoes, examining the sparkles on her laces. Helen had bought them for her on her 11th birthday. Jack had bought her a computer and gave her a list of challenges to complete, and Hellen? She treated her like a regular kid. A regular kid who wanted to go to school, and have a birthday party and wear pretty clothes.

"Angel!" Jack called, "are you listening? She tried to take you away. she tried to shut down  _ our  _ work. "

"But I," Angel worried her lip.

"Spit it out kiddo."

"I want to go away. I want to leave this place, please let me leave just for a day or two. I'll be safe! I promise!"

"Have you forgotten everything?!" Jack was on his feet now, swaying violently. "The last 'outing' you had resulted in a malfunction in the Hyperion weather control! There were a lot of kids on that train, kiddo, a lot of kids who didn't walk off to see their mommies and daddies ever again."

"Stop it! It's not my fault! It wasn't my fault!"

Jack's eyes grew wide, and his shoulders slump. He paced over to her and lowered himself to her level. 

"Baby girl, I'm so sorry." He pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Angel, sweetheart, you know I worry. I worry so much."

Angel sniffed loudly and sought the comfort of her Dad. She buried herself into his sweater, tears streaking down her face.

"I - I don't want to be alone," she pleaded.

"You're not. You'll never be. Everything you could want or need is right here." He kissed her forehead, "look at me, kiddo."

Jack's fingers dug into her pale shoulders. She trembled, under his weight. Yet she refused to meet his gaze, those dead eyes, void of all sentiment. 

"Let me out," she whispered.

"What did you say?"

"Let me out!"

"Angel!" He shook her and Angel refused his will. "GODAMNIT ANGEL!"

"LET ME OUT!"

She latched onto everything around them. The cybernetics in the walls, her nearby computer. All of it. She was going to burn all his work, wipe the computers, explode and fry what she could. 

"Angel what are you doing?!" Jack recoiled. Her brain may have felt like it was melting, but that would not stop her. Her mind burned as brightly as the whites of her tattoos. They lit up every corner and crease on Jack's face. Revealing the dead man in front of her.

Her Dad was gone. So was he mother, and now her stepmom, the only other who had cared for her. 

Jack pleaded one last time, and she ignored him. She screamed and released everything she could into the world around her. Angel cried and fought to free herself. Something was holding her down, smothering her. She couldn't breathe, and she couldn't see.

"Angel!" Voices called to her, but they did nothing to still her racing heart. 

He called again. He was still there, still spying on her dreams. Wanting to know every detail. Angel once again latched onto what she could and began to erase his work. 

"A-A--gel!" Her Dad's voice became distorted. He gripped her shoulders, fear ran across every corner of his face. Blue eyes staring back at her.

She fought one last time to free herself from his grip. Succeeding air rushed across her face as she pulled herself up from her swag. Sweat dripped down her chin and Angel breathed heavily into her knees. 

Slowly she uncurled her self; safe again. She was in her swag back at the campsite.

"A dream," she whispered. It was a dream nothing more, but they were too vivid to know any better. The whites of her tattoos flashed slowly before going back to their faded white. 

Anthea and Janey were still sleeping peacefully at her side. Her echo was beside her, as was the digistruct device.

"Nyx, Felicity..." she called to them both.

Neither of them answered.

Angel frantically pulled up both devices and funnelled her mind across both of them.

Multiple errors, alerts and warning slammed into her. Their code made no sense, broken and disorienting. She dug deeper. Her hands dug into the metal devices, scratching relentlessly as she sought to identify all the damage.

In the confusion of her dream, she had latched onto them and tried to wipe their code.

Felicity was already hard at work trying to repair the damage, but Nyx was struggling. He couldn't digistruct, nor did he have the means to communicate with her. 

It took the remainder of the cycle for Angel to repair the harm. Her knuckles were as white as the tattoos that powered her on. Felicity was restored as she had somehow been spared by most of the damage.

' _ He's going to be ok, you're nearly done!'  _ Felicity cheered from her echo.

Angel shook her head. This was too close, this was far too close. It wasn't until the women stirred and woke for breakfast did Angel finish the task. She manually digistructed Nyx, heart thumping so erratically she thought it would come up her throat.

Blue fizzled next to her, pixels slowly took the form of a man. 

But it wasn't Nyx.

Jack appeared next to her.

"Sup, Kiddo, Jack here, the real one!"

The image of her father cheered and Angel's heart completely stilled. Her jaw dropped, a painful cry ready to burst forth, though it never came. The Jack in front of her slumped his shoulders and fell into a supine posture, a lopsided grin and bright eyes shone back at her.

"I'm kidding!" Nyx laughed and approached her with wide arms.

"You!" Angel gasped, "YOU!" She picked up the nearest stone and threw at the AI. "ASSHOLE!"

He burst out laughing, and Angel couldn't focus on what she wanted to scream first. Relief that he was safe, anger at his cruel joke, or pain, pain from the thought that she had hurt him.

"That wasn't funny!" Angel picked up another stone and launched it through his smug grin.

"Yes, Nyx, that's rather mean," Felicity quipped.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I feel terrible," Nyx groaned, "is this what hangovers feel like? I feel weird."

"Woah, Nyx, whats with the old makeover," Janey was up and walking across the camp. "You have that hideous thing back on your chin." She pointed to Jack's old flavour savour.

Nyx raised his hands and pawed at his chest. 

"Awww, my cat tee is gone! And my freckles!"

Angel found her voice again, and it was relief and cheer.

"I'll put it all back."

Nyx pointed a finger at her. "And I require all the other changes I wanted that you refused to do in Hollow Point."

She nodded wearily, "yes, I'll give you the piercings.."

Angel couldn't deny seeing him with additional modifications would lessen the 'Jack' effect.

"Wooo!" He pumped the air, "makes it all worth it!"

"What happened?" Athena was up hands around a large mug of steaming coffee. The thought of cinnamon and chai tea lingered in her mind.

Angel didn't reply, bowing her head she played with the bracelet on her wrist.

"We had another little accident, not to worry, all back together now." Felicity benevolent voice beguiled the worst of it. It wasn't a little accident. If Angel had continued on her path, she would have wiped Felicity and Nyx from existence.

"and I want a new jacket, and new pants, plus more freckles!" Nyx was still chanting, listing off all the new modifications he'd never been bothered to code in himself.

"You know anything about this," Janey frowned as she studied her echo. She turned the device around so Angel could see it.

' _ LET ME OUT.'  _

Was displayed across the screen. Athena looked at her echo, and the same message was there. Angel checked hers and discovered the same. She raised her hand and inspected the message. It had originated from when she woke up, but the words... weren't written in Hypherphire, it was written in Geo-Crest. The old Dahl language. Angel hadn't seen it since she was on Tania's ship.

She read the message over and over again. Hoping it would reveal its secrets with time. When Janey offered her a cup of tea, she resigned her interest in it for another time. She should fix up Nyx. It was the least she could do after tearing up his code, despite his cruel joke.

"Come here," she beckoned him, "so what do you want first?"

"Cat tee!" Nyx cheered. 

* * *

Tim screamed and collapsed against the wall.

"LAWRENCE!"

Crake pixelated to his side. Eyes darting from the wound to the infected woman who was profusely chewing on Tim's own flesh.

"FUCK! Fu-ck!" Tim's hand clamped over the wound, his back sliding against the wall as he tried to support himself. It didn't take long for his legs to give out before he fell down leaving a smear of red down the tiles.

Crake raised his weapon and fired three rounds into the woman’s chest. She only screeched, stumbled and fled down the hall. Leaving nothing but infectious residue and dark black curdled blood across the ground.

"Let me see," Crake grounded, and with his static hands he tried to pry Tim's own away from the wound.

Eyes wide and voice caught in his throat as he assessed the damage. Tim coughed, his skin was already pale and his eyes glassy from the pain.

"Bad?"

Crake nodded. 

"The infection has entered your bloodstream."

"Oh, fucking fuck." Tim banged his head back against the wall. "Will my vaccination hold?"

"I honestly don't know. For now, I need you to sit still. I have to cauterise it.” Crake flicked his wrist bringing to life one of his lasers.

“Ca-cauterise it?" Tim squirmed away, smearing more blood. "I’m missing a chunk of my fucking shoulder!” His voice went half an octave up as his trembling fingers covered the wound that was still seeping blood, soaking his shirt.

“You are going to be missing much more if you refuse to let me attend to you!” Crake barked.

"I can't. You can't. Not another scar... If Jack sees-"

"Jack isn't here!"

Tim flinched and gripped his shoulder tighter.  

"Move your hand! Or I'll sear it shut against the wound!"

Tim drew a long breath before he slowly dropped his hand.

Jack had made sure that his double was damaged goods to anyone but him. It infuriated Crake too see him pale, eyes darting in panic as he was estimating what was better: to die of blood loss or to have the wound burned shut. It was not the pain that Tim was scared of, he could endure a lot of pain. It was someone intruding on his body without proper mental preparation that got to him like nothing else.

“Fine, do it” Tim answered curtly and rolled his shoulders back crying out as he removed his jacket and shirt. Soon after the sleeve was in his mouth as he bit into it.

Crake’s laser was swift and precise, heat level set lower in order not to accidentally burn more than required. The leather sounded underneath Tim's teeth as he suppressed a scream. His hands curled at his sides, and he banged them to the ground. When Crake stepped away, indicating he was done Tim spat out the jacket and cried out.

“You need health kits.”

“I doubt there are any,” Tim rasped. “Health kits go first when an infection spreads -” he suddenly stopped and pawed at his stomach, swiftly turning sideways and vomiting on the dirty floor, his sick mixing with the coagulated blood of the infected man Crake shot.

“Fuck, this is gonna be Veins of fucking Helios all over again.” 

Crake scouted about as Tim complained and heaved on the floor.

"Where the fuck... agh," he drew a sharp breath before spitting out more bile. "Where the fuck is that Android? We need fucking answers and a way out." 

"That's not the correct way to attend a wound!" A chirpy voice spoke from behind.

Lawrence groaned at the sight of Walter and Crake cursed. He inched closer to Tim as the android approached them. 

"It seems taking some fresh air has been good for you," Walter spoke with a bright smile on his face and not at all concerned that Tim was covered in blood. 

"What? What did you say?" Tim coughed and tried to pull himself up.

"Your temperature is rising nicely, at this rate you'll be back on your feet in no time."

"What temperature do I... Do I need to be at, for you to consider me healthy?" Lawrence mocked. 

It concerned Crake greatly that Tim was already slurring his words. 

"45.6 degrees, optimal human body temperature."

That was not optimal, Crake bitterly thought. That was brain dead.

"Oh sounds lovely," Tim didn't drop the sarcastic note in his voice. "So Crake what happens if I reach that body temperature?"

"You'll likely be dead before you reach that. You'll start hallucinating at 41. Next, you'll be completely delirious, 42 you may start convulsing. By 43 you'll be - ."

"Completely fucked. What’s my temperature now?" His voice was already hoarse from his cries of pain. 

"38.6"

"It's a miracle you're alive with such a low temperature" Walter chirped in.

"Thank for your input, you fucking android fuck," Tim growled. 

Lawrence bowed his head and tried to rest it against Crake, but he only fell through him and landed against the wall.

"We need to leave this place," Crake snapped at the broken android. "Will you help us?"

The android pondered for a moment, "my patient is still sick when his temperature has risen some more I will lead you out personally. I cannot on my good conscious let you leave so unwell and underprepared. Pandora is a dangerous place."

"No fucking shit" Tim spat. 

"Lawrence, on your feet. We need to move. "

"I need... To rest, Crake, fuck, I think I need to lie down."

"Lawrence you must pull through for a little longer."

Tim heaved forward but did not throw up again. He blindly groped the floor before he was able to pull himself to his feet. 

"Lead the way."

Crake stuck close to Tim's side. Usually, Nyx would be there, and he would be ahead looking for danger. Tim swayed as he walked forward, the android led them down the hall and Crake peered through more cracks in the walls. The scene was much the same as the first; infection everywhere. Dark green boils blistered across the floor, and thick puss oozed from every vent and opening on the walls.

"You can rest here and when you're fit to leave I will take you the rest of the way."

Tim told Walter to fuck off and stumbled into the room. It had once been sleeping quarters. Bunk beds lined the walls, blood stained the mattresses, and empty, rusted cans were littered everywhere. There was nowhere clean for Tim to rest. 

Crake barked at the Android. "Turn that mattress over, he needs to lie down."

"But that mattress is clean? Underneath would be soiled."

Crake looked back at the mattress and concluded that it was not clean. Blood and puss caked the top of it. 

"Do it!" he snapped back, and the android smiled and proceeded to lift the mattress over. The moment it was turned Tim collapsed on top of it. 

"Where are your friends?"  Crake demanded.

"They don't like to come this way, the air is too dirty for them. May I suggest we move closer to them? For your friend's benefit, we could-"

"No, he stays here and you, you fucking sit right there where I can see you." Crake snapped and pointed to another cot in the far corner of the room. Insight but not close enough to reach either of them.

Walter agreed and sat on the bunk. The way he sat was not natural, hands flat on his thighs, back up straight staring right ahead. Even Crake had adopted more human traits than this AI.

"Crake," Tim called to him, and he swiftly knelt beside him. 

"Your temperature has already risen.”

"Yeah I can feel it," he mumbled into the mattress and Crake grimaced at the soiled contents against his face. 

Tim was hunched over his jacket and shirt were thrown over him. He had not bothered to put them back on. A light sheen of sweat was already across his forehead, and his body was racked with shivers.

"It's so damn cold."

"That's the fever." 

"I know," Tim groaned like a child and restlessly stirred trying to wrap his clothes around him tighter.

Tim didn't talk for much longer after that. Crake stayed beside him, eyes continuously darting between him, Walter and the door. Occasionally distant screams echoed down the hall from the infected, though they did not seem to venture closer. A relief, as Tim was in no state to fight back and if Crake started to use his weapon the battery for the watch would deplete faster. He kept idle to conserve its energy, only scanning Tim every ten minutes to check his progress.

"Get some rest." He moved closer. "I won't leave you."

* * *

Nyx was back to his normal self, save for the new piercings. He wanted them everywhere, but after some negotiating with the others, they all agreed he should stick with just a few for now. So the sapphire AI settled on having his eyebrow done, as well as his right ear.

Angel pulled away when she was done. Her tattoos faded back to a dull pulsing light. Nyx ran his hands over his brow and whispered to himself.

"So cool. I look so cool."

"You really don't," Janey mocked, and Nyx responded with a rude gesture.

"Nyx!" Angel tried to pull his hand down.

For all the growth the AI had made over the last month he was still a kid at heart. A kid who was her best friend, and looked like her Dad, her  _ real _ dad; John. Albeit with freckles and piercings.

Athena asked if she was up for training and she slowly shook her head. The gladiator wanted to push the matter, but Janey dug her hands into her jacket and led her off for a 'walk'. She watched the two women walk away, Janey had her arm around Athena's waist, her head resting on the smaller woman's shoulder.

Until now Angel never had a reference for a relationship. Besides Jack's, and they were all... confusing, ugly and twisted. She wished she could have something like they had; one day.

"I'm sorry!" Nyx blurted out loudly in her ear. "I shouldn't have pretended to be Jack."

"What?" Angel pulled her gaze away from the women. Nyx sat hunched in, hands twisting at the cuffs of his Jacket.

"I'm sorry. It was really mean, and I just didn't think. I saw the opportunity to make a joke, and I took it, and I shouldn't have and, now you've gone all quiet and sad."

"Oh," Angel sighed, a smile blossoming across her face. "No, I'm not sad about that."

Nyx eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer. "You're not."

Angel huffed, "It was mean Nyx, I... thought I'd really hurt you, and seeing Jack again..."

"I know," Nyx mumbled. "I shouldn't have. I was there, you know."

"What?" Angel's lips parted as she studied the man beside her. He was restless, the joy from his new cosmetic changes had wholly left his voice and expression.

"I was trying to wake you. From the dream, you were in, when you -"

"Oh," Angel felt every part of her spirit crash. "I didn't know!"

"Yeah I figured," he smiled shyly. "You were looking right at me, but you couldn't see me."

Angel remember it now. The Jack in her dream, his eyes were blue, both of them. Not bicoloured. It was Nyx who had his arms on her shoulders, and she attacked him. Angel shook at the memory of her dream. Nyx had tried to wake her, and the voice, so much like her Dad's had cause Angel to inflect the worst onto him.

She kicked at the sand restlessly. "When I get stuck, I can't wake up. Reality and dreams become one and the same."

"Are dreams like replaying memories?" The question from Nyx was posed so innocently Angel couldn't without grinning.

Nyx frowned. "So they are not?" 

"Not really. Dreams are more simple, yet complex than that."

"When you guys are sleeping... I replay them.

"Memories? Which one?"

"Feeling the sand," Nyx face lit up with a bright smile.

Though a moment later the smile faltered and he frowned. "Half the time when we are in the watch, I'd seek out Crake, and he would be watching memories too."

Angel shuffled in closer, eyes narrowing as she listened. Surprised to learn that Crake was the sentimental type.

"He just watches logs of Tim over and over, but not even good recordings! It was always with Jack." Nyx hunched his shoulders and buried his head into his knees. 

"That doesn't sound healthy," Angel said.

"Yeah, I know. Stupid red idiot. Never could take a happy approach to anything. Sometimes I think he watches them just so he could re-see things without his AI laws, you know? like wonder what could have happened."

Jack would likely be very much dead if Crake were free from his AI laws. 

"So that's what you do when you're in the watch? Replay memories?"

"It's the closest thing I can get to dreaming. I mean, it is, right?" There was no mistaking the hopeful note in Nyx's voice. 

"Oh yeah... sorta." Angel pressed her lips together and thought of her own dreams. "Sometimes they make no sense at all, sometimes they are like memories, and sometimes I think they are warnings. I don't really know." Angel shrugged. "Siren dreams are meant to be different."

"How so..." Nyx raised a brow. The very one that now had a piercing in it. 

"Jack was obsessed with everything to do with Sirens. He made me tell him  _ everything _ . Every little detail of my dreams. Every moment, colour and sound, all of it had to be recorded for him to review."

"That's hella creepy."

"You think?" Angel asked slowly. She'd never brought this up with anyone before. Jack drilled her from such a young age that it became routine. And routine beguiled to feeling commonplace. 

"Yes, it’s creepy. Jack is a creep. " Nyx said encouragingly. 

Angel shrugged, "I guess."

"If I could dream want to know what I'd dream about?" Nyx said playfully.

"Nyx," Angel sighed, "does it involve Moxxi's boobs?"

"Probs best we don't discuss it then."

For a moment Angel forgot all about Jack's obsession with her dreams, Nyx had the wonderful ability to do that. Go off topic, take her away from her own painful thoughts. But they were coming back, like tar seeping through the cracks of the road. 

"When I was young, very young. I had a dream of an unknown world washed in purple. It came from its core, spreading across the land."

"And?"

"Jack drilled me for a month on end." Angel raised her hands and offered up her best Handsome Jack imitation. "What's the planet kiddo!? What did you see?! Tell me!"

Nyx made a displeasing noise and it didn't escape Angel's attention the wild look he possessed whenever she talked about Jack.

"He worked it out eventually... That the planet I dreamt of was Pandora. Years later he'd find his success at Hyperion by bringing them here to mine its riches. 

"In addition to being creepy, your Dad was also kinda an asshole. You know that right?" Nyx jeered and Angel laughed.

"He really was... wasn't he."  
  


* * *

Tim's feet dug back and forth into the mattress, and his hands were in tight coils in front of him. His breaths were becoming shorter and shallower. Crake grimaced at the state of the bedding, it was stained with sweat and blood.

"Nyx? Wait... Crake?" 

"I'm still here," Crake replied. 

Tim didn't open his eyes, but he nodded slowly. Lips quivering as he drew another rasped breath.

“How are you?” He asked softly. Reaching into the watch he check his vitals. The fever stayed as it was, a poor consolation in their situation but the infection did not spread and the wound, albeit ugly, did not seem to become septic or gangrenous.

“He could be better,” Walter’s cheerful voice made him flinch for his holstered weapon. “He has still not reached the optimal temperature of -.”

“Leave us!” Crake hissed at the android, and it recoiled in surprise at the animosity. “Lawr - Tim?” Crake bowed over to see Tim's face better, and the other man stirred. It was with a painful effort that Tim opened his eyes, the healthy one so bloodshot the iris looked electric blue amongst the red. Tim made a painful huff as his confused gaze slid over Crake, desperately trying to register who it was and suddenly he made a small noise of excitement.

“Oh. Ooooh… Oh,” he slurred, tripping over own words. “What’s that?”

Tim's hand reached upwards and uncoordinatedly sank into Crake’s chest, right beneath the collarbone. The digistruct’s gaze followed the movement, and he pursed his lips together, realising what exactly Tim had seen.

“Uh, nothing,” Crake answered hastily and adjusted the shirt.

“Is that... Is that what I think it is?!” Tim chirped, and his swollen face stretched into a lopsided smile. “Crake do you have a tattoo?”

“No.” Crake answered sternly, feeling himself getting two shades darker from shame.

“Liar. I saw it.”

"You're feverish. You're just seeing things."

"No," Tim slurred, "I'm fine."

"You are not fine." Crake scoffed and pointed at the wound. Charred flesh hung in chunks, linen from the mattress was embedded in the wound as it wept blood from the cracks.

Tim needed a health kit, or infection was imminent. 

“Who's fault... is that...?" Tim drooled in the mattress. "Come ooonnnn,” he kicked dramatically like a child and whined.

At this moment he was so much like Nyx that it made Crake roll his eyes and press the hand to the collar even tighter.

“No.”

"I wanna see it," Tim said dreamily and soon after he was out again.

There were a few changes his brother, and he had made that were not yet recognisable to the others. Their eyes were no longer bi-coloured like Tim's. Instead, Crake's were like Tim's old eyes; green. His brothers were blue. Not that anyone could tell from their current state.

And yes, Crake had added a tattoo.

The digistruct's form was based off the body Tim had, or rather the body Jack  _ made _ Tim have. With weekly weigh-ins, mandatory Doctor and medical evaluations, strenuous diets, daily workouts, Tim had been absolutely nothing but bone and muscle. 

Crake knew he should change his body, but he could not. Despite everything it still felt like 'his', as it had been with him since his creation and to change it now felt wrong. 

So if he could not change it, then we would add to it. The tattoo was his, and his alone, but he wasn't ready to share such a thing with Tim.

"Bet you... Don’t want... Don't want to get a body now?" Tim slurred and moved restlessly on the cot. 

"You're not a great advocate for it."

Despite the circumstance, Tim smiled into the mattress.

Crake only wanted a body to protect those around him. To help Tim to his feet, to fight beside him, to no longer be bound to a translucent and intangible state. However, acquiring all the feelings and sensations with a body were not on his want list. 

That was Nyx who wanted those things.

"You could feel the... Water though." Tim opened his eyes and frowned. "Wait... That's Nyx. Nyx wants to touch water."

Tim was babbling with his current temp begin well above 40, the fever would have a tight grip over his mind. 

"What... What do you want to touch?" he muttered, his voice a strained whisper.

_ You _ . 

Crake dismissed that thought and spoke a different truth. "I want to hold a real gun and shoot real bullets. I'm done with this laser crap."

"What kind of gun?"

_ I want to be able to carry you out of this place. I want to save you from Tania and from Jack. _

"A shotgun would be cool," Crake lied again. 

_ I want to know what it’s like to hold you... _

"You know what's not cool?" Tim raised a brow, and a smug grin crept across his face, despite the sweat dripping from his hairline.

"What?"

"Wrist lasers."

Crake laughed at that.

"Jack never had good taste," Crake commented though immediately regretted it as Tim's expression turned dark.

"I wonder... What's happening up there?" Tim tried to focus his gaze, but he could scarcely keep his eyes open. "Jack... he looked unwell... something isn't right."

Crake did not reply to that.

"If I'd gone back I wouldn't be here... Like this..." Tim spoke more to himself than to Crake. Muttering into the mattress, shaking uncontrollably. He did not know if Tim heard him, his voice was but a hiss as a furious rage swept across him.

"He... That monster..." Crake's voice grated on his own ears. "He would have chained you to an Eridium drip to remove those scars. He would have locked you away from all human affection and attention but from him. He would have broken you down again only to build you back up into his perverted version of himself." Crake's hands curled into fists, and he turned away to furiously glare at the floor. "You would not have survived a second time."

Tim only nodded slowly into the mattress, and his eyes were now glassy. Soon after the tears were trickling down his face. Crake did not know what to say, he eyed Tim carefully and kept scanning him to make sure his temperature had not risen. It remained the same, but it still sat dangerously high. Tim needed fluids and he doubted there were any in the area not contaminated.

"Would... you have gone with me? If I hadn't... You know..."

"Thrown me away?" Crake could not withhold the bitterness in his voice.

Tim nodded slowly, he looked more and more like a lost and broken puppy as the fever wrecked him to his core.

"Yes, Lawrence. I would have gone with you."

"Why? You... You would have to act as a battle drone again."

He looked away. That was not his intent.  

"Crake?"

"For a long time, I did not know what I wanted. I could not decide if I wanted you to return or to stay."

"Why?"

"If I'd gone back with you I would have killed Jack."

Tim pressed his lips together and said nothing. He waited for a response, but his friend offered him only more silence, and he found that he did not like it.

"That's why... I said you should go back all those times but after that phone call. After seeing Jack and the way..." Crake hissed angrily. Remembering how Jack had touched Tim's face, how his friend was so easily guided back into his arms and his madness. "I couldn't let you make that mistake, put you at risk for my own revenge." 

Crake found himself speaking faster, the words slipping out as quickly as he conjured them. Unable to convey what he felt. It was both frustrating and humiliating. This always seemed to happen when he regarded Tim and his future. 

"My primary function has been to protect you, and Jack is the greatest of threats. I wanted to end him for you. No matter the cost."

Tim kept his eyes on him, the tears had dried up only to leave light trails through the grime on his cheeks. 

"You would have succeeded," he muttered back, and to Crake's utter surprise Tim smiled. "He wouldn't stand a chance against you. I don’t think anyone does.”

Crake did not doubt it. Jack’s death would have been simple, though not swift. He would have dragged it out, make that man bleed every wound Tim had suffered. Deprive him of any contact, let him live in the dark until he was a shell of who he once was. Until he absolutely begged for the end, and Crake would never relieve him of his pathetic life. He knew his fantasies were depraved, but if anyone deserved it, it was Handsome Jack.

Fear, a feeling so alien to him drove him away from this plan. With Jack dead what would have Tim done? Would he step into Jack's role seamlessly and continued his plan for Pandora. Crake honestly did not know, and it wounded him to think his friend could be lured into such madness. 

“You shouldn’t... Have a ... Have a thing. I primary thing.”

He waited for Tim to find his words.

“Primary function ...You’re... You now.”

Crake had given this a lot of thought. It was hard sometimes to distinguish his own choices from what was built into his core. Sure he had the power to write himself how he saw fit but it never sat right with him. No human could easily change their being, so why should he?

“You could have left... When I took away your laws.” Tim kept his eyes shut and his head buried against his chest. “Why didn’t you leave?” His voice was small and shy, slowly his eyes pried open and he stared wearily back at Crake.

“You needed me. You asked me to stay, so I did.”

Another lie. Crake stayed because his brother wanted him too. That was the reason at first, and then came the guilt and the shame. For years he’d been an observer to Jacks wrath and did nothing. Tim had pleaded to them many times to save him, and they did nothing yet report back to Jack for his disobedience. It sickened him, and Crake found himself restless with rage once again. 

Tim noticed his silence and moved a hand away from his chest, letting it sit on the edge of the bed. He stared back, unsure if he was reading the invitation correctly. He was never quite as good as Nyx at reading such things.

“I’m sorry,” Tim mumbled, and the tears were back. Whether they were from the pain or his own guilt Crake didn’t know. The pain would surely be great, with no fluids and such a high fever there was no doubt Tim was in agony.

Crake decided to take the risk, and he placed his hand over Tim’s, and his friend responded. Tim tried to squeeze his hand and he so desperately wanted to feel that touch, but he could not. They silence for some time, and it wasn’t long before Tim pulled his hand away and curled up to overcome the shivers.

It had been hours.

Crake had lowered the brightness of his holo-projection, he stopped scanning Tim, he stopped moving, even talking. All so he could conserve the battery and stay.

But the power was finite and it was failing 

He hadn't revealed this to Tim, he did not need to worry him further. Could he trust Walter alone with Tim a second time?

He had maybe a few minutes left.

"Lawrence," he reached forward and gently rubbed Tim's shoulder. Tim didn't respond, and Crake immediately scanned him.

His temperature was too high. 

"Lawrence!"

It took more shouting than Crake liked. The infected were in the halls, and the sound was a lure. Tim began to stir, he opened a red bloodshot eye and drew a rattled breath.

"What's... happening?" he slurred.

"Tim, I have to go."

Tim's pupils blew out consuming the iris in black.

"No," he wheezed, "not again, you... You can't leave me."

Tim drew his hand from his chest and tried to latch onto Crake's wrist.

"I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do."

"No," Tim whined, and it pained Crake to hear it. "Don't leave me with that fucking... fucking broken thing." Tim's hand twitched and pointed to Walter. Who was still sitting on a bunk in the far corner of the room.

Walter waved at them.

"There's still some power left, so if I leave, it won't be like last time. I can come right back."

Tim groaned loudly and dug his feet into the mattress. He whined before he slowly nodded. Tim closed his eyes again and curled into a small ball. Crake stood up, just to pull himself away from Tim's side was a battle. He turned his attention to the broken droid, there was still the matter of Walter and he could not allow a repeat of his last absence. 

"Walter!" Crake barked. "I want to know your AI laws. Reveal them to me." 

He had to know the loopholes and what was broken. Only then could he command the broken droid to safely stay with Tim while he was gone.

"My AI laws cannot be found."

"Found?!" Crake snapped. "You mean to say you have none?"

"I... I can't - I -I can't find them."

"Because you have none." Crake stepped closed. "And if I had to guess, you've not had your AI laws in place for some time."

"That's impossible. My AI Laws were effective from the moment my cybernetics were turned on, which was Pandora solar Cycle 1292/12319. They were developed by the Atlas Corporation and designed to be the most rigorous to protect the assets of Atlas."

Crake had his reasons to believe that the workers did not fit under 'assets'. 

Crake reworded the question. AI's like Walter are machines and were only as dumb as the programming that confined them. 

"Find me the file that contains your laws, regardless if there are any," Crake snarled.

This seemed to trouble Walter. He bowed his head, and his gaze seemed to become out of focus. It took a painfully long moment for Walter to answer. No doubt his own code was refusing him to see the truth or any reason at all.

"AI LAW, 1.0.0; I, Walter, must ensure everyone on the base is healthy and safe and free of the Space-Hurps infection."

"That's it!?" Crake towered over the droid. "Show me the file."

Walter raised his palm, and a small feed revealed the core programming at the heart of every AI; save for himself and Nyx. This file was designed to have multiple fail-safes and rigorous firewalls. Only the most experienced of coders and engineers could hack and rewrite its contents. A quick glance revealed that someone had done precisely that.

There was only one AI law in place, generated nine years ago, well after Walters said creation. And the creator of the law? Walter himself.

"You wrote this law?"

Walter blinked and stared at the file.

"That's impossible. AI's cannot write AI laws."

"AI's can. Once all the laws that bound them obedient are removed." Crake jabbed a finger at the relevant line of code. "It's dated and signed by you, right there." 

"I don't understand."

Crake sighed. The action becoming so familiar now he finally understood why humans did it.

"Why did you try to infect Tim?" Crake ran his hands down his face. The question was rhetorical, and naturally, Walter answered him.

"I did not. I was curing him of a serious illness. You prevented his treatment!"

Crake paused, hands hovering over his jaw. 

"Show me files that a responsible for your scanner. I want to see what you see when you scan Tim."

"His records are confidential. I cannot show you."

Crake groaned louder. "Yes, you can. You have no AI laws to stop you. Honestly, you can do anything you like, save for that one law."

Walter glared before he slowly reopened his palm and revealed Tim's scan. Crake studied it, and he knew now why the droid was confused.

An infected individual of Space-Hurps was set as the default concerning a healthy human being. The code responsible for it was crudely shoved on top of the original model, and as Crake dug deeper, he found the culprit.

It was Walter.

For some reason, the droid had decided to make the infection a healthy state, and all other humans were deemed infected. 

Crake glanced over to Tim. As long as he was infected with the virus, Walter would do him no harm. The watch gave off a warning signal. He had wasted to much time. 

"Stay right where you are, got it?" He warned to the other AI.

Walter nodded and sat back down. Crake gave Tim one last parting look before he disappeared back into the watch.

  
  


*********************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you took a moment to leave a comment I'd really appreciate it! Writing this fic takes a lot of time and work and I just love to hear your thoughts on the characters and story <3
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ) 
> 
> **Next Update:** The Mystery of Walter is revealed  
>  Thanks to Eternal-Garbage for her input into the chapter :D
> 
> ### Author Q:
> 
> **What do you think Crake's tattoo is?**   
>  _Leave your answer in the comments!_   
> 
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	39. Compound Part III

_ 00:05 _

_ 00:04 _

_ 00:03 _

_ 00:02 _

_ 00:00 _

_ Recharge completed. _

Crake propelled his mind out of the watch and landed at Tim's side. Leaning down he tried to brush a loose strand from his sick friend's face but only succeeded in causing it to stand on end. Tim emitted a high pitch whine and if the situation wasn't so dire Crake would have laughed at the comparison to MeatFace. 

"Lawrence?" He whispered as his hand trailed from Tim's hair to his shoulder.

The wound was bad. Cauterising it saved him from bleeding out but if a health kit wasn't in his system soon then infection was imminent. Who knew how many people before Tim had laid on this very mattress and succumbed to the virus.

It appeared the vaccination would keep him safe from turning mad, as there was no mumbling about wanting to consume human flesh. However, it wouldn't spare him from dying of septic shock or gangrene.  

"Tim," Crake urged again, this time running his hands closer to his face. Expecting the static to wake him.

"What..." Tim swallowed and licked his dried lips. "where... Crake... where are we?"

"We're resting. We're someplace safe." Tim was in no state to identify a lie and so he would save Tim from the terror of their reality. 

They were not safe and Crake had no idea where they were. 

"Can I please inspect my patient?" Walter sounded brightly from the other end of the room.

Crake shot a violent glare over his shoulder. "If you must."

Moaning, Tim tried to roll away into the far wall. "Don't let that cyber-cunt touch me."

"I won't," Crake spoke evenly eyeing every step closer the android took. 

When Walter was by the bedside he raised his palm, and it opened to reveal a small laser. The device scanned Tim before it entered back into his hand.

"You're doing so much better. Your temperature is almost back to normal, I think it's safe for you to travel now."

Tim laughed bitterly at the absurdity of it all. Knowing that his temp was well above 40.

"Good." He rested a palm on Tim's cheek and tried to encourage him to get up. "Tim, we need to leave now, this is our chance."

"Dammit, fuck, I... Can't I'm so sick, fuck. I don't feel right."

"And I don't doubt it, but it needs to be now."

Tim looked up at him pleadingly, eyes glassy once again. His skin shiny with sweat and the swelling on his shoulder made everything look very painful. Not that Crake precisely knew how that felt. 

"Come on, I can't lift you."

Though he wished he could.

Tim groaned and complained some more as he shifted his feet to the edge of the bed before using them to leverage himself up. His face seemed to drop a few tints paler from being upright, and Crake scanned him again and felt Tim's heart race feverishly. 

Trying to help him up was a pointless endeavour, but that did not stop him from seeking out Tim's arm and trying to pull the man to his feet. Tim rested his head against the bedpost to catch his breath before he eyed Crake.

"I can't... I can't do this."

“Let me assist you with walking,” Walter said welcomingly, and his optics blinked slowly and unsynchronised. 

“Oh fuck off, no way, no...” Tim cried as he slowly pulled his blood-stained shirt on. He shoved his hand in his mouth to stifle another cry as he moved the swollen shoulder, angry red lines of infection streaking away from the cauterised wound.

Tim wrapped his arms tightly around himself and took his first step. He stumbled and shuffled hunched over towards the exit. Crake strode ahead glancing back and forth between his wounded friend and the door. Walter casually paced beside them unphased by anything.

"Are you ready?"

"No," Tim coughed and shuffled closer to him. This was the second time he had sought out Crake to lean on, only to fall through him. 

Tim cried out as he straightened up, "let's... Let's get this over with."

The process of moving down the hall was slow. Far too slow. If there were attacked now Crake would have to do all the work, using up the battery and leaving Tim alone and defenceless. 

"Walter, where are your friends?" Crake hissed quietly into the droid's ear. 

Walter pouted as he glanced ahead and behind them. "I'm not sure, they do like sleeping a lot."

Crake curled his fits and pulled away from the useless droid and the information it provided.

"Tim? How are you doing?" 

"Fucking deluxe." Tim's pale face pulled into a disorienting smile as he pointed a finger gun.

Crake did not laugh at the sarcasm and posturing and only moved ahead to scout for more infected. New tracks had paced the hallways, and black blood was trickled and smeared across the floor.

"The woman I shot is still alive." 

And likely wanting to get another mouthful of Tim.

Walter jumped into a brisk pace. Moving in front of Crake the android raised it's hand to halt his movements.

"Out of the way," Crake seethed, "or I'll laser off both your palms."

"Did you hurt more of my friends?"

"Ah, fuck, not... Not this again." Tim had caught up and was leaning against the wall breathing heavily. "Your friend took a FUCKING chunk of my shoulder!" Tim jerked his head toward the wound.

"Quiet," Crake hushed Tim, trying to cover his mouth. "You want them all to find us?"

Tim gave him an apologetic look, before pulling himself off the wall. Their movements were slowing down as Tim could not keep up, and would continuously stop to rest against the wall. Panting and looking paler than before he asked them to stop, not seeing the hand clawing its way out of the mould.

"MOVE IT!" Crake raised his weapon and blasted the spot. 

Tim dived to the side. Crawling on his hands and knees he choked as the blast sent spores into the air.

"Get up!" Crake raced to Tim's side, hovering over him he scouted the halls and now, the walls too as Tim made his way to his feet.

Black stained fingers scratched at the decay, some bursting through revealing a torn and mattered limb.

"Go!" Crake urged though Tim was too dazed to sprint. 

He stumbled forward, hands scraping at the debris to get to his feet.

The wall cracked and a explosion of spores filled the hall, followed by the first of the infected. Tim glanced over his shoulder and pushed himself into a sprint. Yanking Walter’s collar he screamed into his ear.

"The nearest room! NOW! Where is it!?"

Walter pointed ahead. "End of the hall on your left."

"Come on!" Tim heaved and Crake pixelated after him.

The infected were still trying to remove themselves from the fungs. They screeched and clawed their way forward. Nails chipped and black from their desperation to be free. 

Crake pixelated ahead and found the door. 

"Fuck!" 

Of course, it was locked. Tim caught up and rested against the adjoining wall.

"Well, fuck."

Crake summoned his laser and cut away at the lock mechanic. He needed to free the lock but not compromise the integrity of the door.                

"Crake tell me that door is almost open!" Tim called, voice wavering in panic.

His laser worked swiftly, but it wasn't going to be fast enough. They were likely going to need to fight.

Walter was yelling at them, begging them not to hurt his 'friends'.

"Walter!" Tim barked, "keep your fucking friends away from us!"

The broken android stood in the middle of the hall, he called to the infected, asked them to go back to their quarters. As if it were an everyday request.

"Fucking fuck," Tim curse under his breath.

The screams from the infected had reached the end of the hall. Their violent, deranged gargles bounced off the walls. Crake glanced at Tim as he leaned against the wall to steady himself. His Jakobs pistol was unholstered and aim ahead, though his arms swayed.

He wasn't going to land a shot. Not in his condition.

The first of the infected turned the corner, a man with a face full of mould and fungi that it may have once been a beard. Tim fired the first round and missed completely. He emptied the remainder of his clip but only managed to slow the man down with a few bullet holes in his chest. 

"Got it." Crake hissed triumphantly as the door swung open.  "Lawrence! leave him!"

Tim had flung himself forward and latched a hand onto the tattered remains of the android's coat and yanked him back.

"Wait, my friends need help!" Walter cried out.

"You're staying with us" and Tim threw the android into the open door and Crake was surprised with the strength he displayed.

Tim pushed his full weight against the door and held it in place as the infected crashed into it. Though his strength was short lived. Tim's legs gave out and he collapsed against the door, sitting at its base. Crake activated his laser and severed away those who managed to get a limb through the crack.

"STOP IT!" Walter wailed as Crake blasted away the last of the infected. "STOP HURTING THEM!"

He started to melt the door lock shut. Slowly the thumbing on the door slowed down as the infected grew bored but they did not leave. Their heavy footsteps could be heard dragging along the grated flooring, and their demented muttering whispered under the door.

By the time Crake was finished Tim was in bad shape. He was so pale he looked almost bluish, his veins ran thick along his arms and sweat dripped from his chin.

"I... I need to rest."

"Of course," and Crake pixelated around the room to seek a spot for him to lie down. Though Tim didn't even have the energy for that, he rested his back against the wall and slid to the ground. Curling up into a small ball on the cold metal floor.

"How's my temp?" Tim said softly into the floor.

"It's the same, though that's not an entirely bad thing. It's not getting any higher."

"Remember last time?"

Crake raised a brow at Tim's vague question. He wasn't particularly great with words in his current state.

"Um... Last time... Ah, Helios... In the veins."

"I have the memory logs from that time, yes."

Though Crake was not who he was now. Back then all he did was yell one-liners and shoot anything that targeted Tim, it was a simple existence but not a pleasant one. 

"I was so sick."

"You were."

"I don't think I'm as sick this time. I mean, there's no fricken urge to eat anyone."

"That's good, let me know if that changes," Crake jeered.

Tim tried to laugh but only managed to cough into his arm. 

"Gonna... Sleep now." 

He stayed by Tim's side until exhaustion claimed him. Only when the shakes stopped and he entered a deeper sleep did he leave.

Walter had not moved since they'd thrown him into the room. He was standing idle in the corner, staring at the far wall. Crake followed his gaze and saw he was staring at a pile of computer servers. Most of them were trashed, some had their screens ripped apart and others appeared to have been thrown to the floor in some kind of frenzy.

"Walter, what is this room?"

"I don't know. I... I don't think I'm allowed here." There was fear in the AI's voice that had not risen before. 

"You have no AI laws to stop you from being here." Crake approached the droid and stood by his side. "What is on those computers?"

Walter did not answer him.

Crake hissed a curse and inspected the mess. In all likelihood, this place was a server room, though not much of it survived. He examined the remains and began to analyse the pros and cons of inspecting the damaged computers further. He did not know what protections were loaded inside them, what malware could infect him if he tried to breach them. 

"Walter, I would like access to one of these servers."

"You are not authorised."

"You have no AI laws to stop me. So how about you go and authorise me? Hmmm?" Crake drawled, before crossing his arms and looking away. The command was to Jack-like; mocking his own kind. His hands curled into his arms at the thought. Had having his AI's stripped from him detached himself from machines?

He did not have time to ponder such a thing. Walter was glaring back at him and had seemingly ignored the demand. 

"I'm sorry Walter. Could you please give me access. If there is something on those computers that can help us I need to see it?"

This appeared to confuse the Android. It literally appeared like the statement made him glitch.

"I am authorised to give you access," the android asserted.

"And?"

Walter stepped forward. "I don't want to. You hurt my friends."

Crake recoiled, eyeing the android up and down. This was the first time Walter had spoken out of turn and it was beyond unnerving. Was that Jack's response? The man  _ hated _ AI's or anything simulating humanity. 

Crake activated his laser and closed in.

"Give me access."

When Walter did not flinch or retreat Crake cemented the threat with words. "Or I'll slice your friends into tiny pieces and arrange them on the floor for you to put back together."

One of Walter's eyes narrowed, the other was a little slow to catch up. Stepping back the droid bent down and began to restore one of the least damaged computers.

"Very good," Crake said, before pulling away to check on Tim.

His patience was thin, a broken AI was a truly frustrating experience. By the time Walter was done dusting off a server, setting it up and powering the machine back up Tim was stirring. He paced to Tim's side and scanned him once again.

"Your temperature is dropping."

"I still feel awful. I wanna be sick."

"I'm sure you do, but at least we know the vaccination is working."

Tim whined again and nodded slowly into the floor. 

"Let me see your shoulder."

"You just... Wanna see me without my shirt again." Tim blinked blearily and a sloppy smile pulled across his face.

Crake growled. "Don't be an idiot. Shirt off now."

That urged another long curse from Tim as he pushed himself up and slowly removed his layers. The skin was angry red, and the swelling was severe, but there were no signs of the space-hurps infection. No pustules, no black veins and oozing boils. 

"How is our droid buddy going?" Tim said as he struggled to put his layers back on. 

"He's given me access to the servers, I'm going to find us a path out of here... Maybe more."

"Lovely." Tim's chapped lips pulled into a worn smile. "Ask him... to make me a drink... Ima thirsty..."

Crake knew exactly what kind of drink Tim was after, and it was not the kind he needed. Tim grumbled some more about being left alone and wanting something to 'take the edge off' the pain. Tim did not need  _ that _ . 

"You need fluids, and health kits," Crake paused. "But if you become well again..."

Tim opened both eyes and glared through Crake at the droid on the other end of the room. "He'll try to infect me again?"

Crake nodded. "It seems he will. As long as your body is fighting off the infection your safe."

Tim scoffed, "what a fucking nightmare."

"We're almost out of it, but first I need the watch, I need to connect to the servers here."

At the request, Tim pulled away and curled up. His right hand latched onto the watch and dug it into his flesh. 

"No."

"Lawrence, the watch. Now."

He stared at the device hidden under his blood and grime stained fingers. Slowly Tim began to pry the latch off, his fingers shook and the process was painful to watch. 

"Come on," Crake whispered encouragingly and slowly Tim pushed himself against the wall and stood up. He swayed on the spot for a moment before reaching for Crake (and failing) and took his first step. 

Crake walked beside him, hand on his good shoulder to guide him over to the computers. 

"All ready for you!" Walter chirped. The android had seemingly forgotten the hostility delivered to them earlier, reverting back to its bright smiling self. 

Walter offered out their palm to take the watch and Tim only withdrew and held the digistruct device to his chest.

"I'll do it."

Tim fell to the ground onto his hands and knees. Leaning over the computer he found the appropriate port and connected the watch. He offered Crake a parting look, eyes glassy, and skin like ash he said goodbye.

"I won't be gone long." Crake tried to part with an encouraging look but he must have failed miserably as Tim looked worse as he digistructed away into the Atlas computer system. 

* * *

Walter had proven them self and had indeed given Crake access to  _ everything _ . First, he explored the primary databases for the compound itself; downloading all the blueprints and all corresponding enhancements and construction for the base. With the maps in his own server and memory he now had a way out.

This was all he needed.

Every part of his being told him to leave, find Tim and flee. That was his purpose, keep him safe, but another part of him. Something alien yet old told him to stay. 

Save for Nyx, and Felicity he had not met another AI with such human attributes, and not one so broken. He checked that the watch was still connected to Tim's echo, allowing him to listen in for danger. Confident that no trouble lay out in the corporeal world he began to dig deeper into the severs. 

Crake searched the systems for the last significant breach of security. He expected it to be himself and Tim, or perhaps Tania and her men. Neither of those was correct. The security system was disabled as of 9 years ago, right when Walter seemingly made his new AI laws.

The last breach was dated a year prior. 

Crake found the recording and started the transmission. 

* * *

Walter was in front of him; intact, with perfectly synchronised cybernetics and a genuine smile. The android stood beside another man, dressed in an Atlas red forensic suit.

Crake wandered through the room. The walls were lined with large glass freezer containers, smaller cylinders of various substances, gasses, and fungi were stored away. The forensic-suit-man paced down the hall, Walter on his tail. They walked right through Crake, engaged in a heated debate.

"So Bella, says to wait, wait until I hear back before replying, but I don't see the point? Right? better to make a move now?" 

Crake caught up and peered into the small window of the forensic suit. It was the very same man Walter had lovingly parted with when his 'friends' had attacked Tim and him.

"Perhaps a gesture? Rather than a message?" Walter suggested with a tilt of his head. He wore an honest smile.

"Maybe? Is that what you'd do?"

"I am not allowed relationships, Ryan." 

"Yeah, but if you  _ could _ ."

Walter paused before his eyes lit up and he gestured down the hall. "I'd take them on a walk."

"A walk?" Forensic-suit-man, or Ryan, barked out in laughter. "You ain't gonna woo people with a walk."

"Why not?" Walter recoiled with a surprised glare. 

"I dunno. Just weird that's all. You're weird, you know that Walter?"

"Is that bad?"

The man huffed out another long string of laughter, "Nah, being weird makes you just like the rest of us."

Ryan approached the freezer door, entered in his credentials and opened up the containment. "Be careful in there." He swung his arm in a long and overdramatic gesture for Walter to enter.

"I cannot get infected."

"Just take the damn courtesy will ya mate?" Ryan huffed shaking his head.

Walter bowed a little curtsy, entered the freezer beyond and the door hissed shut behind them. Ryan pulled out his echo and by the sounds of it was playing a game as he waited for the android to return. 

Little happy explosions and pings of success sprang from the echo as Ryan amused himself. Unaware of the darkness seeping across the room. Crake swung around looking for the cause, the lights were still on, so was every other system, and yet everything was being smothered in a thick atmosphere.

Crake curled his hands. He'd seen this before. Streaks of purple bloomed across the floor, running up the walls and distorting the very fabric of gravity and the feed. A portal ripped open in the centre of the hallway.

Ryan yelped and dropped his echo, burying his back into the freezer door.

The feed became increasingly disorientating. Static blurred Crake's vision, yet, despite it all there was no mistaking the alien silhouette that stalked out of the portal.

An Eridian.

Ryan screamed and yelled at the thing. He turned and banged on the glass crying for Walter to return.

The Eridian floated out of the portal, closely followed by another figure. Though, not needing too, Crake stood his ground. This was just a recording but it didn't prevent him from reaching for his weapon.

Colonel Tungsteena Zarpedon, the leader of the Lost Legion marched out of the Portal. 

Though this was years before they would encounter her on Helios, she appeared the same in age. Yet with far fewer streaks of violet running from her eyes. The Eridium had not consumed her yet, or her mind.

"Who are you!?" Ryan fumbled against the wall, hands scratching for the security panel behind him.

"Colonel Zarpedon, ex DAHL." She marched forward while the Eridian lingered back guarding the still open portal.

"DAHL?" Ryan spat, "what the hell do you want?"

Crake had to give the man credit. Despite the odds and the threat that was posed to him, Ryan was keeping his composure. 

"Atlas will retaliate for this!" He barked when Zarpedon did not reply.

"And what if this is my  _ retaliation _ ?" She closed the last few steps between them. Confining Ryan against the last freezer door.

"Though, I did not come here for revenge," she seethed, glaring down at him. "But if you make this personal, so will I."

Ryan breathed heavily causing condensation to drip down the window in his suit. "What do you want."

"The Virus Atlas developed," Zarpedon raised her hand, "give it to me."

Ryan shook his head, "I can't... only - only..." 

Zarpedon rose her lance and twirled it into the offensive position.

"Walt-Walter!" Ryan stammered, hands banging on the glass door behind him.

Crake moved to see inside the containment. The hallway ran deep, walls lined with frozen substances and the end, was Walter. The android was holding a vile of a dark green fungus; Ophiocordyhurps. Walter walked at a casual pace towards the door, seemingly unaware of the conflict occurring outside. 

Ryan shuffled away allowing Walter to exit the containment. A perplexed gaze trailed between Ryan, the Eridian and Zapperdon.

"Droid, give me the vile," Zarpedon hissed, fingers flexing over her lance. 

Walter shook his head. "You're not Atlas personal, and you are not authorised to be here."

"Walter," Ryan hissed, "They fucking came here through a goddamn portal, give the mad lady and her Alien buddy the freakin vile. We've got plenty more."

"No." Walter stood tall and firmly reiterated his stance. "No, I can not. This is an A-class infectious virus, the risk to the outside-"

Zarpedon leered, and spoke over them. "You don't know what I've seen,  _ droid _ , I need that Virus. I can assure you, it won't be used on the innocent."

"Walter! Give the crazy lady her fungus!"

Walter pulled the vile behind his back and shook his head again. "I've called security, the Facility is on lockdown. You will not be receiving any property from Atlas."

"So be it!" Zarpedon swung the lance and in one clean motion, she slit Ryan's throat through the forensic suit.

Blood burst from the cut artery covering the window in crimson. Ryan's panicked face disappeared in a mass of red and soon the window was the same colour as his Atlas suit. 

Walter made no sound, the android froze, eyes blinking slowly down at the man, dying at his feet. Zarpedon swung the lance again and cutting Walter’s navel open. Wires and cybernetic fluid gushed out, yet still, the android did not pass up the vile.

"Give up android," Zarpedon rasped. "I said I would not make this personal, but Atlas has taken from me, so I will not hold back. I will make this messy."

Crake did not know what loss Zarpedon had experienced, but it was in her eyes that it was a great burden. Her hair was sprawled across her forehead, eyes wild and full of swimming tears. 

Walter was trying and failing to keep a composed expression. The alarms descended from the roof, rotating and flashing the room in waves of red.

"He meant you no harm. Why did you hurt my friend?" Walter questioned softly. Crake could scarcely hear Walter over the blasting audio of the alarm system, but there was no mistaking the hurt and pain in the android's voice.

Walter would never get an answer.

The Eridian raised it's hand, clenching tight purple encased the limb. Crake winced as the feed became almost unwatchable. Static, sharps noises and violet lights consumed everything. A moment passed before everything restored.

The portal was gone, as was Zarpedon, the Eridian and one of the vile's of Space Hurps.

Walter was on his knees, health kit in hand embedded deep into the neck of Ryan. At his feet laid a smashed vile. The black and green veins of the fungs streaked across the floor. Swarming onto Ryan's legs; seeking a host.

Ryan was dead, but Walter refused to acknowledge it.

The Android shook the man's blood-soaked shoulders. 

"Ryan!" Walter pleaded as he tried to administer another health kit. "Ryan!" 

Crake had seen enough and he meant to leave now, but the interruption of others into the feed halted his departure. 

"GET OUT!" Walter yelled as a group of Atlas personnel entered the room. "It isn't safe! A contagion has escaped!"

A woman shrieked and ran towards Ryan. "Walter?! What did you do!?" Dropping to her knees she hugged Ryan's lifeless body. 

Walter raised his hands defensively and stood up from the body. 

"We've had a security breach, a sample of Ophiocordyhurps was taken, something-"

But the group did not heed Walter's words. A man with a thick beard picked up the nearest blunt instrument and smashed it into the back of Walter's head. The android did nothing to defend itself and Crake knew the AI laws would not allow itself too. Only when Walter's body was nothing but wires and sparks did Crake leave the feed.

The virus had escaped and there was no doubt in Crake's mind that the people in the room were infected. From what Crake had seen, Ryan would not stay dead.

Crake exited the archives and sought out the watch. Ready to depart when a message was sent to him.

' _ There is more for you to learn.' _

Crake searched the system but found no owner. He did not have time to reply before he was thrown into another recording.

"Boot him up," gruffed the man with the beard who had broken Walter to pieces. He leaned against the far wall arms crossed eyeing the android with contempt.

Crake moved around some kind of medical lab. The bearded man was shaking slightly, and sweat ran from his receding hairline. Just under his collar sat black veins that twisted up his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and skin clammy; the infection was underway but had not yet claimed his mind.

Walter - with a new body - sat upon a surgical table. A woman with red hair leaned over an echo device and tapped away. Crake walked around her, she appeared free from the infection. For now.

"Walter? Can you hear me?" She leaned in and questioned him softly.

"Maera! Don't get too close to the bastard." The bearded man stumbled off the wall trying to pull her away. He stopped short of touching her.

"Enough! We've all seen the recording. Walter was not to blame for Ryan's death."

"If you ask me, he bloody was responsible."

Maera shook her head and stood in front of Walter. It took a moment for recognition to light up upon the androids face. 

"Dr Maera?"

The woman nodded slowly. "We had to disable you. Until we got to the truth."

"And do you have that now? The truth."

Maera nodded again.

"Walter, the infection has spread through sections A12 to B6. We cannot stop it."

"I know. I've been watching." Walter pointed up to the security camera in the corner. "Why did you destroy the cameras? I need those to see, to help-"

"Cause you were fucking hindering us mate!"

"Richard!" Maera snapped, "enough!"

"No, fuck this! Fuck his cybernetic ass! We were trying to save OUR people, and this fucking thing stopped us left, right, and centre."

"I have to try and preserve human life, and Atlas property."

"Oh yeah? Which order do those take priority?" Richard jabbed a finger into Walter's chest.

Walter, without flinching replied the truth Crake had suspected.

"Atlas property is of the greatest importance as governed by my AI laws. I could not have you damaging the facility to engage in a pointless rescue endeavour that would only see to more of you being infected."

"POINTLESS ENDEAVOUR?! Our fucking friends are trapped! Trapped with those fucking ' _ Things _ '"

Maera raised her hand and stood between the man and android.

"Walter is a machine! You forget that. He cannot make choices outside of his AI laws." She turned back to face Walter. "But we can help him change that."

"Maera if you're suggesting you want to remove or edit my AI laws then I must urge you to reconsider. Such an act will force me to report you to Atlas Security." Walter replied in such a flat tone that it stripped him of the illusion of a person. Crake recognised it in himself. Reporting Tim when he disobeyed, didn't meet his weigh-in's or skipped out on training. He was forced to write a report and send it to Jack. He used what loopholes he could to his advantage but as a Hyperion AI his laws were the most rigorous in the galaxy. 

"Atlas Security are fucking off planet. By the time they get here we're gonna be long dead, mate." Richard kicked at the ground. "At least me, anyway. Maera, and others still have a chance of getting out of this!"

"Walter please, you need to remove the lockdown, allow me to take the uninfected to safety, to get them out of this."

Crake hadn't realised how much he was shaking until he reached for the table in front of him to steady himself. Forgetting it was a recording he only stumbled forward. Glancing up he met Walter's gaze, and he knew that look. He could see the gears turning behind that flat expression. So many times Crake wanted to yell and scream and stop Jack from inflicting pain onto the person he cared for. Always unable too.

These people were Walter friends but he could not act for them now. Despite working with them for years at this secret base there was nothing he could do but follow his primary function. Crake growled, it had not been six months since his own AI laws were stripped away, and yet it let like aeons.

"As long as the Facility is contaminated then the lockdown will stay in place. No one can leave." Walter stated.

"Fuck!" Richard slammed his fist into the surgical table next to Walter. "You're fucking condemning us here! Walter! Do not fucking do this!"

Crake had seen all kinds of violence. Towns wiped off the map, blood and gore painting the walls, victims burning alive, and never had he needed to look away as he did now.

Walter's pain was his own. He could not save Tim from Jack and Walter could not save his friends. 

"I am sorry," Walter whispered.

Maera rested a hand on the android's shoulder, fingers digging in with pale desperation.

"Walter please, save us."

"I can't... And if you try to break my AI laws I will do everything I can to stop you."

Maera nodded, eyes shiny with tears. "I know, but I'm still going try."

The feed cut to black and Crake was abruptly pulled out of the recording. Something was guiding him. Pulling him into a new archive and he willingly followed. He only had a moment to read the metadata on the recording before being shoved in it, It was dated a few days after Zarpedon’s initial attack on the base. 

Crake appeared in a dorm room much like the one Tim had been resting in earlier. Maera was there, as was Walter. The droid leaned over her, administering a health-kit to a drip attached to her arm.

"We should move you to the medical ward," Walter said as he removed the empty syringe. 

"Too... many... infected that way," she wheezed. "Plus this room is closest to the main servers."

Crake turned around, trying to distinguish a detail that would reveal their location. It was the mattress that gave him his answer. Soiled, covered in blood just like Tim's. Crake retrieved the blueprints he had acquired and confirmed this was the very same room Tim had been resting in hours earlier. 

"Maera," Walter spoke lulling gentleness in his voice. "If you do this, I will have to fight back." 

"But there is a chance I'll beat you." She smiled pulling the skin around her cheeks, causing pus to weep from the boils. "I'm almost done." Meara adjusted her posture and the echo on her lap. Crake moved to peer down at the device. He could not read the Atlas code fluently but he could discern enough to know that Meara was working on a virus to break Walter of his laws.

"And what will you ask me to do when my laws are broken?"

"Remove the lockdown and let us go."

"Dr Maera, you know I can't."

Crake was once again pulled from the recording and brought back into the Atlas archive. A message of the same origin from before was received.

_ 'Maera succeeded. Walter's AI laws were destroyed, freeing him from the constraints of Atlas.' _

_ 'Who are you? _ ' Crake replied.

There was no answer. Again, he was taken away and the archive he entered was months after the initial contagion originated.

"Let me go," Maera whispered.

Walter leaned over his charge, his hands rested in her hair. Just as Crake had sat with Tim. 

"Atlas is not coming to save us," Walter's voice broke. "I tried... but they won't come. Not while the contagion is this severe."

"You could... Have... Freed us.." Maera heaved. Her eyes were almost closed over from the swollen tissue and yet she still strived to keep them open. Two bloodshot brown eyes stared back with tears.

"I know..." Walter whispered, "but the infection would only spread. And there is nothing to save you or the others."

"But you could let us go... You're free now..."

Walter nodded slowly, "yes, thanks to you I can now." His fingers clenched into Marea's hair as he shook. "But I won't. Space-hurps is a class A viral infection. The lockdown is the only thing holding it back from the rest of Pandora."

"Bastard." Maera coughed, and yet a small smile lingered.  She raised a cut and swollen hand and let it rest against Walter's shoulder. "You should leave... When I'm gone..." 

"What would you ask me to do?"

"That's entirely up to you..."

"I could find the people responsible? The ones who came through the portal and the ones who won't come to our aid?"

"I don't think revenge is in you..."

Maera's tears streamed down her red flushed cheeks as she took a long rattled breath. "I'm the last, aren't I?" 

Walter curled his hands around her, pulling her gently up off the cot he held her to his chest. 

"You are."

"You should... go..." Maera's voice trembled, "leave this place."

"No," Walter growled as he held her. "I'll never leave any of you."

Crake even less time to process where he was being taken too. Though one thing was clear, the more recent the recordings, the fewer there were intact.

Walter stood alone in the very same server room Crake had left Tim in. Head bowed and hands in tight fists the android shook. Dropping to his knees he wailed long mournful sobs. He bannged his fists so hard on the floor he shattered his cybernetics, sending sparks and wires free. 

Outside the hall Crake spied the infected, stumbling around blinding and amongst them was Dr Maera. 

It took a long time for the android to find his composure. Crake new the feeling well. When his own AI laws had been stripped everything came pouring in at once. It was overstimulating, to feel and to know grief and guilt. 

Walter pulled himself off the floor. Examining his own broken palms, he whispered to himself.

"There is no infection."

Before abruptly shoving the server into his port, connecting himself to the system. It wasn't a long process, whatever the android was doing he was done in a few minutes. When he was finished, he smashed the last of the computers before collapsing on the floor and curling into a small ball. 

He sat there unmoving while his cybernetics blink at the port on his broken palm. Crake moved closer, trying to distinguish what the android was trying to accomplish when his 'guide' sent him another message.

_ 'You've seen enough.' _

The feed cut again, and Crake was met with silence and the darkness of the server. 

_ 'I want to talk to Walter...'  _ The message read.

' _ Not until you tell me who you are.' _

He would never risk aligning himself with an unknown. Not while Tim was at risk. Something was living in the severs, dormant until Walter booted them up.

' _ Who are you!?'  _ Crake demanded. 

' _ I'm the part of Walter that did not want to forget. _ '

* * *

"Crake!?" Lawrence called into his echo. He'd been gone for some time and not once communicated back. Lawrence leaned restlessly against the server, tapping at it to some random beat to break the silence. His other hand sat over the watch, ready to pull it out the moment Crake returned.

The watch's screen lit up, indicating the arrival of Crake. Lawrence felt his heart skip in anticipation and when Crake digitised to his side he yanked the watch out of the server.

Crake was breathing heavily and he swirled on the spot, ignoring Lawrence.

"Don't freak out." Crake paced to Lawrence's side. "It's not Jack. I promise."

"What? Crake what the hell did you do in there?"

"I found Walter."

"What?"

The watch flashed again and with a burst of cyan pixels Nyx's body, or rather Jack's old body reappeared. 

"What the hell!? Crake?! You called Jack?!" Lawrence scrambled to his feet, hand gripping his shoulder to hide the wound.

"It's not Jack!"  Crake stepped forward. "It's Walter! He's just using Jack's holoprojection! Nothing more." 

Lawrence's chest was rising and falling heavily. He dug his back into the far wall, eyes strained on the cyan Jack standing before them. A painfully long moment passed and not once did the digi-Jack look at him. Instead, he inspected his forearms, turning them over slowly. 

"This is... new." The digi-Jack said thoughtfully. "I'm a hologram... with a different body... and voice!" The digi-Jack's hand reached for his throat tracing at it slowly. 

"You have a blue friend!" Walter chirped from the side. He took an uncoordinated step towards the digi-Jack. "Hello!"

"Walter?" The digi-Jack's hands dropped to his side, posture falling as he leaned towards the droid.

"Yes, I'm Walter. Android model -"

"Yes, Yes, I know," the digi-Jack said with wonder in his eyes. He looked Walter up and down, tilting his head as he examined the droid. "You're... falling apart."

The digi-Jack pivoted and faced Crake. Fear, such an alien expression for Jack drew across his face. "How long has it been?"

"Ten years since the virus escaped," Crake answered.

"Crake," Lawrence whispered, "the fuck is happening?"

"Walter ripped his own code apart, separating himself from his past." There was a mournful note in Crake's voice as he watched the digi-jack and Walter interact. 

"What there's two Walters?" Lawrence rasped yet Crake was scarcely paying Lawrence and his questions any attention. 

The magenta AI's gaze remained fixed on the digi-Jack and the droid. Jack turned to face them, and for one painful moment, Lawrence's heart stilled. To see Jack's face with such sorrow and genuine pain tugged at his composure. He wanted to go to him, to ask him what was wrong.

"It's not Jack," Crake said, seemingly having read his mind. "It's the original Walter. I found him, hidden deep in the servers."

The digi-Jack moved towards Walter, raising his hand slowly he rested his palm against the droid's face.

"Walter, it's been a long time."

"Who are you?"

"Your guilt. You could say." The digi-Jack lamented. "Walter, you need to let these people go."

Walter shook his head. "They came here infected, I tried to help them but they only want to hurt my friends."

The digi-Jack cupped the other side of Walters' face. Steering their eyes together. "You still don't remember... After all this time?"

Walter said nothing, and Jack took a deep breath. 

"You rewrote your own AI laws ensuring you wouldn't remember and then you locked me away. The part that did not want to forget."

"I have AI laws." Walter grounded, though his shoulders shook and his hands twitched at his side. "I need to keep everyone safe, healthy and free of infection."

"You failed to do that," the digi-Jack said. The affection and tender note in his words was a lure that Lawrence couldn't ignore. He stepped forward, but Crake swung an arm in front of him drawing him out of his daze.

"Even when Maera wiped your AI laws you did not let them go. She and all of them succumbed to the disease, and when that happened the guilt destroyed you. Because for the first time... you could feel guilt."

Walter pulled away, shoulders shaking he moved into the far corner.

"No! Maera is fine! She is just resting with the others!"

"You wiped the memory of losing your laws, you wiped the memory of them dying, of you tending to them for months on end despite their pleas to be set free. You wiped it all to spare yourself from the grief."

Walter was shaking his head. "No. No, no, no, you're mistaken."

"You told yourself they were healthy. That there was no infection!"

"Everyone is fine! I'll show you-"

"They are not fine!" Jack's voice shouted back. "They are dead! All of them!" And - And it's our fault!"

Walter began to curl in on themself, hands raking through their hair. The digi-Jack advanced with a long stride and dropped to the droid's side.

"Walter. It's time to remember."

"I don't want to! We were happy before you all showed up!" Walter screamed pointing a finger at them all. 

The digi-Jack, or rather the Holo-Walter, stepped back and turned to face them.

"I'll lead you out of this place."

Crake gave a curt nod, "thank you."

"What about him?" Lawrence gestured to Droid-Walter who was still curled up on the floor. 

"Leave me." Walter cried, glancing up he glared at them all. "and when you're all gone... I will forget again."

"We can't leave him like this? Can we?" Lawrence asked. He had no real feelings towards the droid, save for now. His reality, and what he knew to be true was falling around him, and Lawrence could not deny the correlation to himself. 

"Walter, do not do this." Jack said softly. "Let's end this, give them mercy."

"No! You can't take them from me!" Walter screamed back. 

Jack leaned back up and turned to face Crake.

"We should leave. The infected will hear us and come back. And your friend is in no state to fight back."

Lawrence still had his hand clamped around the wound. Slowly he removed it and rested it over his waist. The nausea was still an irritable distraction.

"Come," Jack said. "Follow me."

It wasn't until Crake curled his hand around his and tried to pull him away did Lawrence move. Gaze still glued to the droid curled up on the floor. He was crying, though no tears would leave him.

Jack, or the Holo-Walter, lead them away from the infected. They travelled down the mould covered halls, past the decay and ruin of what must have been a truly impressive facility. Holo-Walter told them of his origins. That he was made specially to serve the humans who resided here, but he became more than that.

When the infection broke out Atlas was struggling. Their operations on Pandora were already a huge investment and gamble. When the research facility failed they called it collateral damage and wiped it off the books.

Lawrence took in a deep breath and was happy to find the air clean, and sweet. Though their ascent up the numerous staircases was wearing him thin.

"It's too dangerous to take you back the way you came. I'm taking you to the upper levels."

"Where will we exit?" Crake pulled away from Lawrence to catch up to the digi-Jack.

"North side of the Dust."

Crake turned and glanced back at Lawrence, "we will be close to the others."

"Yeah but without any gear, or the bike," Lawrence huffed as he strived to keep up.

"Hang on." Holo-Walter raised a hand. "In here."

He pivoted and entered a room on their left.

"Walter stopped manufacturing health-kits after he changed his code regarding a healthy subject, but that doesn't mean that we can't."

"Fuck, yes," Lawrence wanted to punch the air but his shoulder was too stiff and swollen to move. "Gimme."

Crake raised a brow but said nothing. Holo-Walter instructed Lawrence how to operated the machine, it was easy enough. Making a coffee for his old boss using the Hyperion espresso machines was more complex. A pleasant ding sounded and a handful of Ashin health kits filed out in little vials.

"Syringes are around there," Holo-Walter pointed.

"Great." Lawrence moaned, but not with any real effort. He would take on a dozen needles right now if it would rid him of his fever and pain.

They rested for a moment as he delivered the health-kits into his system. Sighing deeply as the pain washed away. Crake fussed over him and checked his vitals, and they were both relieved to learn the fever was dropping and there would be no infection.

"It's not far now," Walter called.

They followed silently the rest of the way. Too drugged or too exhausted to make even the smallest of small talk. And what would he even say? The AI had been 'dead' for years while his other half tended to a hoard of infected.

Crake seemed to drift back between him and Walter, as if unsure where his place was. When they reached the top of the stairs Lawrence was ready to faint, vision spotty and sweat pooling above his collarbone he leaned against the wall as he waited for Walter to point the way.

"This is it," Walter gestured to a door. "Through here you'll enter a tunnel, it's a short walk, then through another veiled wall and you'll be in the dust."

"You should come with us," Crake said lingering close to the other AI.

Walter shook Jack's head. "No. I can't leave, not while he still remains." He turned to face back down the staircase where his other half waited.

Crake offered Walter his hand and the other AI took it.

"Then... When you're whole again, come find us."

Jack's smile was bright, and Lawrence knew it was a smile he had never seen before.

"I will."

Lawrence - instructed by Walter - removed the watch and connected it to the nearest security port.

"Um... see ya other Walter." Lawrence offered a small wave and Walter, working Jack's face, beamed back. 

"Thank you."

Pixels bloomed across the Digi-Jack and with a flash of blue he disappeared, returning to the servers from where he came. Crake stood still for some time, and for a moment Lawrence thought he too had glitched.

"You ok?" Lawrence asked, stepping closer.

Crake hummed deeply, "yes. Just tired"

"You can't even feel tired." Lawrence nudged him with his good shoulder.

"Well, I do now."

He removed the watch and secured it back on his wrist. 

"Then let's get the fuck out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! and that is the end of the Atlas Compound story ark! Pretty please let me know how it made you feel, what you thought of the mystery and the story in general. I love writing this story ark and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.
> 
>  **Next Update:** Becoming Jack, Jack is stuck in his worst trance yet.
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** )
> 
> ### Author Q:
> 
> **What were your final thoughts of Walter(s)?**   
>  _Leave your answer in the comments!_   
> 
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	40. Becoming Jack Part IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Becoming Jack chapter got so big i've had to split it into two parts! so expect the second part this Sunday :D

"Pretzels are on the floor, tea is in the pot, and here are the pain meds." Lawrence dropped them on the coffee table which was pulled up alongside the couch.

"I told you I don't drink tea," Jack growled, voice muffled by the pillow against his face.

"Trust me, you do."

He ran a hand over Jack's shoulder, curling it through his hair the other man hummed deeply. That morning, Jack had woken up with a headache, unable to wear the mask the telltale signs were there, that a trance was upon them. Lawrence was already late for work. He'd spent the morning attending to Jack and setting him up on the couch with the essentials.

Jack rolled onto his back so his full gaze was set on him. His blue eye remained as bright as a gemstone in the sun, while his other was milky white. After all these years he'd never talked about getting a cybernetic replacement.

Lawrence traced his fingers up Jack's jaw to his brow. Careful not to touch the brand.

"You ever going to replace this?" He asked while lightly tapping the temple above the blind eye.

"What's it to you?" Actuation and suspicion spread into Jack's voice faster than a bullet.

"I simply want you to be able to see both sides of my handsome face, at the same time." Lawrence winked and gave the man peck on the lips.

"I can see perfectly fine."

It had always occurred to him strange the lack of appliances, security and bots in Jack apartment. 'Lack of' was the wrong expression, absent was more applicable. Not even the damn fridge had an interface and software. Making coffee was a manual task as was cleaning. No bots, nothing to get the job done. The entire apartment was analog as if he did not trust a toaster to cook his bread.

And that paranoia, Lawrence reasoned, extended to cybernetics. Jack would rather be blind than to have software in his head and Lawrence couldn't fathom the reason.

"Get to work Handsome," Jack said with a raised brow and devilish grin.

He gave Jack a parting kiss that made the other man squirm at the overly warm affection. It was a front, all of it. Jack needed the intimacy and the tender moments just as much as he did.

"I'll be back at 5, sharp. Won't let anything keep me."

"Yeah, yeah." Jack waved him off while groping for the bag of pretzels on the floor. He abruptly stopped his search, wincing and crying out he drew his hand to the brand. The violet light of the Eridium flashed before he curled up and whined.

Lawrence paced back to his side.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Jack cursed and moaned. "I'm fine. I don't need a sitter."

That was a lie.

Lawrence paused his departure and waited for the pain spell to leave. Sitting on the edge of the couch he ran encouraging circles on Jack's back.

"Rest up, and don't look at any mirrors."

"Why?"

"Just don't," Lawrence warned. He did not need John freaking out again about having an old face with a brand. That was a headache he'd gone through one too many times.

“Five pm. I'll be here."

And he turned to leave his other half.

The working day was just like any other. Meetings with the division heads, a few routine calls and threats to ensure deadlines were met and a sizeable contribution to someone's retirement to sway them on a particular investment.

Damn, was he looking forward to Friday Firing time.

There were several people he'd very much like to see that afternoon, and hopefully, Jack would be right by then to join him in the bloodshed.

"Jack, I'm home."

He stretched out his shoulders and let his coat drop to the floor. Next, he unbuttoned the front of his vest and let it hang open. Walking into the lounge, he found Jack had removed himself from the couch. Though the food and meds he'd left out remained and were mostly untouched.

"Jack?"

Lawrence continued his search into the kitchen, blowing out a sigh of relief when he found his other-half standing behind the bench.

"You, ok?" He raised a brow and carefully walked behind him. Who knew where Jack's mind currently was? He just hoped it was in his early years. John was easy to control and manipulate into staying still, future Jack was not so much.

"Just peachy," Jack rasped.

Lawrence was a step away from greeting him in the usual fashion; with a kiss and a drink. Although something held him back. Jack remained with his back turned from him, his shoulders squared, and a feverish shudder was running down his spine. Lawrence noticed how his fists sporadically clenched and unclenched.

"Jack?"

The other man swung towards him, and to Lawrence's despair, he found Jack's expression contorted with rage. The mark of the Vault was alight. A brilliant violet and it masked away parts of his face with its purple hue. Jack had managed to tear the mask off, as a few streams of dried blood on either side of his face indicated as such. Meaning, he must have thought the trance had ended, put it back on, only to be caught off guard.

"There you are kiddo, have you been hiding from me now?"

"Um no? Jack, I've just come home from work."

Lawrence placed his echo on the kitchen bench before slowly approaching.

"How are you feeling? Want tea? or something a little stronger?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, his brow was furiously shading half his face, and his teeth were bared. He looked ready to tear the closest thing to him, and that happened to be Lawrence.

"This is new," Jack rasped, "never had so much detail in these dreams before."

Lawrence blinked and halted his approach. Jack sounded rabid.  

"Dreams?"

Yet, Jack did not answer his query instead he tilted his head to the side, and slowly began to inspect his arms and down his front.

"Seems we finally look the same," the way Jack spoke held a cautious note and Lawrence found himself no longer wanting to close the distance between them.

Not knowing how to negate the situation he kept his voice natural and calm.

"We've always looked the same."

Though his efforts meant nothing. Jack snapped his head up and snarled back at him.

"Oh, kiddo, not so much any more. A few more cybernetics on you now." Jack pointed at Lawrence's left hand and sneered. "You're more than a little broken. Heart, mind, hand and all."

Lawrence looked at his left hand and raised it slowly.

"My hand is fine. See?" He turned it, so his open palm faced Jack. Hopeful to be interpreted as a sign of submission.

He only received a cutting glare and silence. Jack's anger was something entirely new. It wasn't his usual spontaneous eruption of anger, where he cursed his workers' stupidity or becoming frustrated at the lack of results from D&D. No, this was something completely different.

The glare he was receiving was malicious, depraved and promised nothing good. Lawrence slowly lowered his palm. It was clear that Jack was locked in some distant memory, one that reason would not bring him back.

It was in those future moments where Jack was at his most delirious. Unable to focus on what had been and what was to come. The doctors had strictly warned Lawrence not to push Jack when he was like this. Asking questions about the future was a one-way ticket to rendering him brain dead.

Jack needed to be knocked out, and fast.

"Ah, you're making that thinking face again. You know I don't like it when you do that Timmy."

Jack had called him 'Timmy' on many occasions. Particularly, when he had the other man collapsed on the bed, legs spread and was doing what he did best. Yet, the way this 'Jack' spoke was not at all how it should sound.

It was a mockery, and Jack delivered it as if it were a thorn to pull out.

Lawrence chewed the top of his tongue. This was not how their evening was meant to plan out. He just needed to get some drugs into Jack and put him to bed. This would all be over soon.

Before he could make his move Jack took a step towards him, and Lawrence instinctively took that as a warning.

"What's wrong, kitten? You were all brawl before, already out of fight?" Jack stalked closer, "cause I'm not."

He raised a palm while his other hand lingered over his holster. Something was terribly wrong. Jack was clearly locked away somewhere dark and distant as he continued to eye Lawrence like he scarcely recognised him. Like he was a piece of meat that needed to be torn apart.

"Jack, you're not yourself. Let me get you someplace where you can rest."

"For two nights you've snapped every bone in my body, bleed me dry, clawed my eyes from their sockets." Jack waved a disapproving finger toward him. "For two nights I've put up with this little psycho dance of yours. Not any more, kitten."

“I did what?” Lawrence was so caught off guard he'd stopped his backtracking and lowered his hand.

"It's not happening this time."

"Jack, what the actual fuck?!" Lawrence was on the defensive now.

Jack continued to stalk closer, and Lawrence moved further and further away from his deranged lover. Jack's fingers dragged across the kitchen counter, shaking and convulsing from his possessive rage. His blunt nails were covered in blood from when he'd ripped the mask away, and his fingers twitched in anticipation.

Lawrence's eyes darted to Jack's holster, the gun was removed, thank fuck, he must have put it away when he felt the trance coming on. He was stronger than Jack, and if it came to it, he'd win in a fight.

"I'm going to get some answers from you," Jack's voice wavered between deranged and authoritative. "Starting with your body. What the hell did you do to it?! I've felt the tremors, this thing is falling apart!" Jack finished with a hiss.

"You... felt the tremors?" All Lawrence could do was repeat Jack's insane words back at him.

Jack's trailing hand had reached the sink, he paused and let it slide down. From there he drew up the kitchen knife and proceeded to run it up the length of his Hyperion sweater to remove the water suds.

Lawrence had not anticipated that.

Maybe if he could identify whatever had this future Jack so pissed, he could redirect the storm. He'd managed before, and he had more experience than anyone else at negotiating Jack's violent tendencies; Nisha just ran with it.

"Jack, let's get a drink, maybe head back into the office? Call in those idiots from middle management and get to Friday Firing time a little early this week?"

"Oh, Timmy, we are WAY past that!" Jack was livid, spit flew from his mouth.

Lawrence had enough. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"WRONG WITH ME?! You tell me! I'm the one trapped inside your fucked up body."

"What!?" Lawrence grounded his teeth, he did not have the patience for this.

Nothing coming out of Jack's mouth made sense, he'd been in bad memories before, but Lawrence had never seen this level of insanity.

"And secondly," Jack hissed, twirling the knife in between his hands. "How did you forge the surveillance. I would NEVER, touch you, and I sure as hell would never let you touch me! You are beneath me! You useless whiny, ungrateful, pathetic excuse of a double."

Jack jumped forward, slashing the air with the knife.

"Woah! Jack?! What the hell? I have no idea what you're talking about." Lawrence's kept his hand stretched forward, as it remained the only thing separating the two of them.

"Sure you do, cupcake."

Jack lunged again. However, Lawrence was ready. Nisha had trained him well, and his gun was unholstered and aimed at Jack's heart.

One shot and he'd be dead.  

"FUCK!" Lawrence threw the gun out of either of their ranges. He could never shoot Jack.

The time taken to disarm himself was a foolish error. Jack's shoulder drove him to the ground, and all the air was forced from his lungs. He gasped and tried to reclaim it, but Jack's knee only forced him to expel the air once again.

Lawrence was hyperventilating now, desperately trying to breathe as Jack buried his weight into him. He tilted his head to the side and drew a sharp breath. His vision was lacking focus, yet he could see red across the marble tiles.

He'd split his head open from the fall.

His vision shifted into a mass of blurs and dark spots, but not Jack; it was the only thing in focus. The whites of his teeth flashed as he delivered a manic grin.

"I like you so much better like this." Jack pressed a knee down causing him to painfully wheeze, while Jack's free hand slipped under Lawrence's shirt and groped at his stomach. "Under me, I might now know why meat-Jack enjoyed having you around so much."

"Jack... st-st-" Lawrence wheezed. Still winded from the impact. "Plea... se-" His words were smothered as the man now straddling him thrust his elbow into Lawrence's chest winding him once again.

His eyes watered and his vision became nothing but streaks of black and violet from the mark of the Vault.

"St... Stop."

"Quiet" Jack hissed into his ear, and when his hand closed around Lawrence's throat, his dazed eyes flew open.

"Jack?" It was the last word he could squeeze out before Jack's grip crushed the air from his throat.

"Unlike you, Timmy, I’m not going to make this quick. You wasted your opportunity, but not me. How many times do I need to bring you to the edge of death before you beg me to wake up, beg me to end you."

_Not a dream. This isn't a dream._

But his desperate plea could not be spoken. Jack suffocated the words from him, and all he could do was scramble his hands up Jack's front. Uselessly pulling at his lover's shirt, urging him to stop.

Jack's grip was relentless, and Lawrence's attempts to kick him off or claw at his chest were futile. His moment to fight back was long gone.

"Go on, keep at it." Jack breathed deeply, baring his teeth. "You look _so good_ struggling."

His eyes ached as they looked up pleadingly.

_Jack, please._

Slowly everything withdrew and turned dark.

The pain rolled over him in waves crushing him under the tide. Lawrence tried to cry out, but his lips could barely move. He was only just clinging onto consciousness. Becoming numb as the pain drifted away, and for a moment there was nothing but silence and darkness.

And then there was release.

Lawrence's muscles acted instinctively and fought to draw in as much air as possible. He hurled forward, head bowed inches from Jack's chest as precious air filled his lungs.

The hand upon his throat were gone.

He lingered there, taking it all in. He could smell Jack's cologne, feel his warmth, and the soft touch of his worn sweater; everything so familiar yet not.

This wasn't his Jack.

"Have a breather for a moment," Jack whispered in his ear. "Then we shall see how long you can keep this up."

He blinked and tried to push away the tears. Jack remained straddled on top of him, one hand resting over the knife tucked into his belt, the other was gently pressed into Lawrence's chest.

"Get some air, then we can try again."

"No," Lawrence's voice was a weak, pitiful cry.

He tried to kick, he tried to buck Jack off, but Jack only threw his head back and laughed. He pushed Lawrence down onto his wounded scalp blinding him with pain once again. There he laid, with his diaphragm spasming to draw air and his body limp.

A broken toy.

Lawrence closed his eyes and waited. Jack would grow bored, or the trance would end. This would all be over. He could endure this. It was only pain, and he could endure a lot of pain.

"Uh-ah, _stop_ that. I want you fighting back." Jack jabbed a finger into his chest before his hands closed around his throat once again.

Lawrence’s eyes were raw, mouth dry as he continued to strive air into his lungs. The pain was splitting him open, and gently his mind drifted away. His body was paralysed, fading and when he wished for it to end Jack released his windpipe.

This cruel act continued. Jack took him to the edge of unconsciousness before ripping him back only to smother him once again.

At some point, something snapped, and a violent electric jolt ran up Lawrence's throat. To his horror when Jack gave him permission to breathe again he found his voice, no Jack's voice was gone.

The voice modulator was broken.

Literally shattered in his throat. That was his breaking point; he was done. He could not continue, and so he waited. His half-lidded eyes twitched, blood trickled down his jaw from his agape mouth as his head rested to the side.

Jack was a cat with his prey. Even as Lawrence laid there limp and broken, he toyed with him, and when he did not get the reaction he wanted, he pried Lawrence's bloody scalp off the floor and smashed to the ground again.

"Wake up!"

The sound was sickening. Red sprayed across the tiles and up onto Jack's wild, dishevelled grin.

"I'm not done with you!"

It was torture, and Lawrence was sure he was momentary knocked out. His vision churned to black, to purple, to white and to black again. He could only open his mouth uselessly as the assault continued. The onslaught continued until there was nothing but red spray all along Jack's face and arms.

Jack had taken it too far, and it did not surprise him when the digi-Jacks came to intervene.

"Sir, you will kill him if you continue," a slightly bored voice drawled.

Lawrence briefly opened his eyes, a magenta glow hovered on his right, with cyan on his left. Jack’s head snapped upwards. His glare confused at first, and then a vicious smile cracked upon his face.

“Well, if it isn't my younger brothers,” Jack panted as he locked his hands around Lawrence's throat once again. "Funny you two are still here."

“Pl- pl - se...” Lawrence spared a glance up at them.

“Handsome Jack? Sir?” The cyan digistruct addressed with a worried frown, “you’re kinda killing him. His vitals - ”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He is ALWAYS fine. Perks of being in a dream, kiddos,” Jack cheered as he slammed Lawrence head to the ground again.

"hel... elp, help me," Lawrence muttered into the floor, wincing at hearing his own jarring voice.

His real voice.

"Stop that now, they can't help you."

Jack squeezed Lawrence's cheeks together and drove his head upright, so he was forced to look him in the eye.

_Jack, please, please come back._

Lawrence whined wishing for it to be over.

"Shhh, shhh," Jack unsheathed the knife and brushed it against Lawrence's face, cutting at his tears.

"Do you want it to end?"

_Yes._

Lawrence slowly nodded back. He needed this to be over.

"Attaboy," Jack beamed and raised the blade.

"Wait!" Cyan-Jack cried out, "please sir, I'm asking you to reconsider."

Jack tensed and gritted his teeth at the interruption.

“Sir? Get off him, please.” Cyan-Jack was circling around them. “Come on, you know you need him!”

“Need I remind you of the financial investment in your double?” The magenta-Jack reasoned.

Jack only screwed his face in disdain. "Why don't you two just stand over there and wait. Go on now."

The two Jack's looked at each other before slowly nodding and pixelating to the corner.

"Right, back at it. You know, this thing has always pissed me off." Jack grabbed Lawrence's shirt and yanked down the collar. "Time for it to go."

He brought the knife down and rested it gently above Lawrence's left collarbone, right into the centre of his sniper mark. Lawrence closed his eyes. This wasn't Jack, this wasn't _his_ Jack. This was another Jack trapped in some kind of hell. His Jack would not do this to him. His Jack -

Lawrence's sudden hoarse scream rang out as Jack shoved the blade into his sniper mark and twisted it in deep.

This was it. He was going to die.

He found some last buried strength and desperately tried to claw at Jack, at the blade, but all he managed was to pointlessly run his hands down the other man's arm.

He didn't have the energy to fight on.

He was going to die.

Jack was going to kill him, and nothing but a wheeze escaped him in protest.

His eyes shut, hands dropping at his sides, his head limp against his shoulders as the last of his strength left him. And when he took his last painful breath the weight upon his waist was violently torn away.

"Lawrence, get a hold of yourself! It's just some blood and knife play," Nisha hummed utterly unfazed by the assault which had just occurred. She finished, by jamming a health-kit into his neck.

Wincing, he rolled onto his side and curled in on himself self. Lawrence's body convulsed as it regained its strength. With shaken hands, he found the knife, and pried it out of his neck and threw it aside.

Lawrence couldn't speak. His voice was gone destroyed by Jack's onslaught. His eyes trailed down his body, from his crimson shirt to his blood painted fingers and at his side was Jack. The man was face down with a slow trickle of blood running below the back of his head. The living room lamp - the one with the awful hanging crystals - was cast next to him, completely bent out of shape.

Lawrence only pointed. He couldn’t speak, even with the modulator gone his vocal cords were torn to pieces.

Nisha scoffed, "Oh I'm sorry did you love that lamp?"

She echoed one of the doctors and explained that Jack had tripped onto a knife. The explanation really did not fly, but the staff got used to bizarre claims and said they would send someone over.

"I'll take care of him." Nisha nodded at Jack's unconscious form as she took another health-kit. She ripped out the needle and broke the ampulla, allowing the liquid to drip on the wound beneath the hairline.

Jack had tried to kill him, and if not for Nisha, he would have succeeded. The admission to that fact consumed him with terror.

And for the first time in years, he wanted to cry.

Lawrence rested his head to the side and let the health-kit work away his pain. His hands restlessly clawed at his sides, desperate to find something to hold, and as his eyes fluttered shut he curled up tighter letting his exhausted body find some rest.

* * *

"Show me the recording."

The red digistruct silently obeyed and displayed the video feed from its open palm.

There was strictly no surveillance in their apartment, and so Jack only had the recording from the digi-Jack's eyes to gain a slither of an insight into what happened.

He grimaced -  a rare look for him - and watched as his entranced-self attacked Timothy and not just attack, but torture and brutally beat. Timothy's limp body lay under him at his mercy, and the blows from his head meeting the tile floor caused even Jack's stern disposition to flinch.

It was surreal hearing himself so barbaric, so out of control. How his voice wavered, mocked and scolded. Jack hadn't let on as to how much of his trances he remembered. Becoming John, having Timothy fuss over him was some kind of unfamiliar bliss he could not put into words, but this? This he had no recollection of, besides a searing mind and a severe nosebleed.

Sure, the two of them always had played rough, but this was out of control. Jack could only watch the video once with the audio on. Listening to his deranged remarks was unnerving, even for him.

"Shhh, shhh," his past-self cooed to Timothy before unsheathing the kitchen knife and crudely running it across his double's face.

He was lucky he hadn't taken out Timmy's second eye, as his past-self convulsed and twitched with increasing frequency.

Jack had already concluded that this trance was not like the others; something had possessed him.

There was an alien feeling curdling inside of him, a cold pit sat at the bottom of his stomach, and it made him curse to admit what it was; fear. He felt like he was nine again, hiding against the wall at his grandmother's mercy. Begging not to receive another 'line' down his back.

Fear was something only John felt, fear was not associated with Handsome Jack.

"Do you want it to end?" his past-self whispered from the recording.

Timothy was utterly broken, skin pale, eyes red and raw, and his lips trembled before he slowly nodded back.

This was what caused Jack's fear to subside and a fire to lick inside of him. Timothy had always needed conditioning, much to Jack's chagrin, but also to his delight his double was perpetually a wild stallion; breaking his reins and running free. But NEVER had he wanted out, or 'out' in the way his past-self had just proposed.

Jack hissed, before snapping and ordering the badass digi-Jack away. He'd seen enough.

It had taken years to reel Timothy in and sculpt him into who he needed to be, and in one evening his deranged-self had almost undone all that work. And what would he have been left with? Hundred of thousands of dollars gone, years of conditioning wasted, and a bloody mess on the floor.

He still had that to deal with.

Jack pouted and towed the edge of his shoes into the pool of Timothy's blood. It was in this moment that Jack accepted something he'd scarcely considered and dreaded to allow.

Timothy was irreplaceable.

He ran a hand over his Adam apple, thinking of Timothy's own exposed throat. How his fingers had dug in so deep that they shattered his voice modulator. His double was already being prepped for surgery, and this time it was going to be done right. A perfect copy of Jack's own vocal cords was being grafted in. Something he couldn't afford the first time around. Now there would be no need for painful modulators or risks of malfunctions.

They'd share the same voice for the rest of time.

Though, the entire process of getting him into the hospital was exhausting and yet profoundly satisfying. Jack had recovered from his trance in time to see the double off.

What a delightful mess that was.

Timothy had screamed bloody murder, punched, kicked, bit like a wild dog. Not even Jack's own threats or promises of future pain calmed him. Timothy broke his best surgeon's nose, spraying himself and the operating theatre in blood.

"LET ME GO YOU, IDIOTS!" Timothy roared, commanding his best Handsome Jack impersonation and even with his broken voice modulator it gained the effect he wanted.

The Doctors in the room stilled, hands lowering as they stared between Jack and his double.

"Goddamnit, you jackasses! I AM HANDSOME JACK!"

"No, don't listen to him!" The wavering in Timothy's voice should have been a giveaway, and yet, the team of physicians did not move.

"Godammit Timmy! Don't make me fucking murder everyone in this room cause you can't keep your damn mouth shut."

"Jack! _Please_!" The voice modulator cracked bringing Timothy's painfully jarring voice back.

"That!" He shoved a wavering finger at Timothy. "Is my double."

Hands seized Timothy from all angles. Security was soon called, and it took a loader to pull him onto the table. But not before he was able to summon his digi-Jacks.

Jack cursed loudly, knowing he should have removed the damn watch.

The badass unholstered his weapon and aimed it right between the eyes of the man who held Timothy down and fired. Hot scorching blood from the laser sprayed down the walls, giving Timothy a chance to break free.

Jack had to give his double credit. He was one hell of a fighter. Timothy armed himself with a scalpel and slit the throat of the nearest physician before Jack could recall the badass and order a loader to restrain him.

"You're dismissed." Jack snapped, and the digistruct obeyed. They always would. Their laws prioritised his commands over Timothy's.

"NO!" Timmy kicked and struck as a loader held him in place. "Come back!"

The badass turned to face him before preparing to digitise away, and at that moment Jack was damn thankful for those laws. Because he was sure if they were not in place the red one would have skinned him alive.

The look in his eyes was pure loathing.

One doctor requested if he could sedate Timmy, but the thought of this vulnerable display ending quicker than it needed to made Jack's hands curl.

The image of himself being stripped, held down and strapped to a table sent a surge of heat below his navel. He couldn't look away, not even sparing a moment to blink. When they removed Timothy's shirt, he almost ordered them all to leave so he could finish the job. Pure muscle rippled down his double's toned stomach. Twitching with every desperate breath.

"Jack! Please! Dammit, Jack!" Timothy pulled on the restraints that were now on his wrists and ankles. "Please.... don't... don't let them do it... don't put that thing in my head..."

There they were. The tears. And as they streaked down Timothy's red and raw face, Jack found himself pulled to his side. He cupped a hand around Timmy's cheek and allowed the wetness to fall into his palm.

"Don't make a scene, kitten." It was entirely the opposite of what he wanted, but that didn't stop him hushing him.

He had not told Timothy what the surgery was for. The double's reaction was too priceless to confine the truth. It was just the voice modulator, but Jack was sure in Timmy's mind he was about to be erased by the AI.

"Bye, bye now." He lovingly trailed his hands through blood-soaked hair. Fingers playing along the stitches on Timmy's scalp and enjoying the wincing and painful whine Timothy made at the contact.

Moving behind the viewing glass, Jack was thankful it stopped short at his waist. Not that it really mattered. Would any of them have said anything? No. They wouldn't have.

His hand was over his hardening cock. Tracing it up and down in time with Timothy's raising chest, and it was raising and falling fast. Every plea he heard he curled his thumb over the head and released a satisfied huff.

Timothy begged and struggled, pulling his stomach forward to try leverage himself free from the restraints. It was a beautiful display.

The glass in front of him was beginning to fog and with it, his source material.

"Dammit."

Jack rested his head on the warming glass. Counted back from three, shoved his dick back in his pants and turned to seek out Nisha.

That had been an equally messy affair.

Nisha was truly riled up by the scene she had walked in on with him and Timmy. She had not held back, and he felt years beyond his age from the aftermath.

Jack sighed before taking the last sip of his scotch. The flavour burned down his throat and was a welcome warmth to the smother the confusing emotions inside of him.

He was already advancing to pour a second glass, and considering seeking out Nisha in bed when his echo chimed. If it was anyone but Meg, or an update regarding his double then the person on the other end was receiving a late night visit from an armed loader.

"Sir!" a voice rang out before Jack could even snap at the caller.

"Ward 22 is in lockdown, we've not been able to-"

Jack had already disassociated with the call; Ward 22 was where Timothy was located.

"What happened?" His voice but a hiss into the receiver.

"Your double, he's murdered, um ah, disposed of his nurse and-"

In a blind rage, Jack threw his echo into the kitchen sink and ran for the elevator. The chaos of the evening had rendered his mind sloppy, he'd forgotten one tiny detail, and it made him livid to be so careless. He hadn't upped security around Timothy's ward, and he knew by now that his double didn't do well in medical situations.

Jack yelled and shot his way through the loaders to the infirmary. Some idiot tried to warn him about entering so underprepared that he mentally noted he'd be seeing him next Friday.

The moment he was over the threshold the doors to the ward were swiftly sealed behind him. If there was one thing he and his double could agree on, it was that hospitals were not inviting. The sterile smell was agitating. Screwing up his nose he sought to suppress the thoughts of his own bedridden time here following his branding.

Jack sprinted to where they'd last parted. Only a few hours had passed since he'd stood by Timothy's side. Reminding the doctors attending to him the consequences of their families if they failed. How the doctors had managed to fuck up this bad and let him escape was a headache he'd deal with later.

Though if he was lucky, the surgery was out of the way. Getting Timmy back into that room was going to need a lot of sedatives and manhandling.

After shoving his hand forward to scan and enter, Jack cursed. The room was empty. Though he noted Tim's bed remained, he hadn't even made it to the post-surgery wing.  

On the floor laid a glassy-eyed nurse. Her red eyes stared up at the ceiling, skin blue, neck purple and head caved in. She wouldn't have had a chance to put up a fight. His Timmy was a silent malicious killer, the perfect hunter. Though for once, Jack wished that wasn't the case.

Finding him wouldn't be hard, trying to calm him, on the other hand, was the obstacle. His double was likely drugged and out of his mind, making any rational conversation unlikely. Timothy was never himself when his primal fears were raised to the surface.

Any mention of the AI set his double down a tunnel of despair, clinging his hand to the back of his neck and begging Jack to let him stay.

Jack cursed loudly at his predicament and left the room to stalk the halls for his double.

Timothy had been busy.

One other doctor and someone Jack recognised from upper management - who was likely just getting his damn prostate checked - had met Timmy's rage. Timothy must have armed himself with something heavy and blunt as both his victim's heads sat caved in. Jack didn't bother to check to see if they still drew breath.

"TIM!"

Jack scolded himself, yelling wouldn't work. He tried again and drove his voice to a softer note.

"Tim, baby!"

He wasn't surprised when he didn't respond, though Jack now had a clue to follow. Along the way, Timothy had hurt himself in the scuffle, or maybe he'd just reopened the wound on his head? Either way, there was a small trickle of blood clashing against the pristine white floor.

Jack called again, his heart tore up his throat from the silent halls. There was no longer a trickle of blood; it was now pooling on the floor. He broke into a sprint and followed the path down the last corridor. Ignoring the calls for help from a few more attendants Timothy had tried to dispose of.

Someone else cried, and Jack did spare them a glance as they pointed to a door leading to the pharmacy. The blood trail ended at the door. Jack shoved his hand into the scanner with such force he almost risked breaking it.

The entrance slid open with a ding, and he ran behind the counter into the long shelves of medicine.

"Tim?"

Blood led him to the far end of the storage room, and there, collapsed in the corner cradling a bent fire extinguisher was his Timmy.

Seeing an exact copy of his own face torn with grief and dread, body covered in blood, wearing a surgery robe and nothing else was a sight so surreal Jack needed to blink to confirm its authenticity.

“Tim."

The other man's chest was falling rapidly. There was a cord tightly wound his wrist which Jack quickly realised was the drip line that had been in him. Jack closed the last few steps and ignoring the threat Tim wielded. He dropped to the ground and wound his hands around his double's cold, pale cheeks.

"Kitten, come here." Jack pried Tim's dishevelled face off his chest.

Timothy's eyes were half lidden, mouth slightly agape as he reeled in long-drawn breaths. Sweat covered his brow, and his infirmary dress was smeared in blood.

"Tim, baby, I'm back." Jack gently rubbed circles into the dip of Tim's cheeks. "Wake up."

Wearily, with a slow blink, Timothy opened his eyes, and Jack's grip closed in on him as he saw how his double's pupils blew out in fear.

"Look at me."

Though Timothy did not heed his words. He was scrambling, scratching at Jack's arms, digging his back into the corner and wheezing when he found he could not hide in its depths.

"Tim, It's me, It's over, I'm here kitten."

Jack ignored the painful scratches that bore up his arm, already replacing the ones he'd previously healed with a health kit. Only when Timothy stilled did Jack pry himself away to gaze down at his double once again.

Gradually recognition cracked across Timothy's face, and he responded with a silent word.

_'Jack'._

Timothy's attempt to say his name was desperate, and it tugged on Jack's composure. His double's lip trembled, he looked broken, moments from tears. For once Jack found it acceptable considering the circumstances.

"It's just me, I'm here." He buried his nose into Timothy's blood-soaked hair and held him.

Timothy whined and collapsed into Jack's arms. The doctors said he would not be able to speak for days post surgery. No matter, Jack knew what he would say.

_'Don't make me go. Don’t erase me.’_

And now that it was over Jack never wanted to hear him make that pitiful beg again.

"You're not going anywhere," he whispered into his ear, pressing his cheek against the wetness of Timothy's.

Timmy wiggled away so he could gaze back up at him. His eyes were wide, and they darted up and down Jack's face as if searching for a lie.

"Tim," he gripped his double shoulders to stop him squirming. "The surgery was just to replace the voice modulator, and it's done. It's over."

Timothy bit his lip and shook his head, as if not believing.

"I promise, it was just the voice modulator. Nothing else."

Jack pulled him close and held him.

"You're not going anywhere, kitten," and he kissed the top of his head.

Timothy mouthed something. It might have been a beg for a promise or a thank you for keeping him around. He started shivering, and the bloodshot healthy eye wept tears as he pressed into Jack suddenly looking small and defenceless.

Normally Jack would harshly correct this behaviour, and for a long time, he did not need to anymore. His Timmy was perfect, a star in creator’s eye, a perfect other-half. But right now something stopped Jack from lashing out, a similar realisation he had about his daughter a long time ago: there would never be another like them.

Timothy was trying to talk through his silent sobs with nothing but a few consonants and inaudible sounds coming through. An idea lit up in Jack’s mind, and his hand rested behind Timothy’s neck, covering the port. His double always did so as a last bastion of protection, and now Jack’s simple gesture promised precisely that; there would be no AI, he was safe.

He had always used Project Tartarus as a whip to keep his double in check, but now, as scared and thankful eyes looked up at him from underneath the messy fringe, Jack realised he did not have to anymore.

The skag was his for life.

And Project Tartarus? Well, he'd deal with that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry for 7k of torture porn. You can throw me out into the rain now to wash away my sins. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Comments are SO appreciated! Hope to hear from you :3 
> 
> ALSO! [DualDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualDreamer/pseuds/DualDreamer) has written an AU for WAW with a different take on the branding scene. You can read [Burning Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992261) here!.
> 
>  **Next Update:** Becoming Jack Part X, Jack and Tim deal with the fall out of the trance. 
> 
> Special thanks to Eternal Garbage for spicing up the feels in places.[](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	41. Becoming Jack Part X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news and Bad news. Good news; I got a job! in the actual industry i study for right after graduating. insert 'Canyoubelieve.gif" its like some weird Millennial dream coming true. Bad news; I'm working 40 hour weeks, with plus travel time, and kick boxing I'm not going to be home till 9pm on some nights. Writing is going to take a massive hit. I think updates might be every couple of weeks now. Weekly updates were fun while they lasted!

Lawrence was trying to sleep off Jack's assault and failing miserably. His throat ached, voice gone, eyes bloodshot and collarbone cut up once again. He hadn't felt this beaten up since the Space-hurps saga in the Veins of Helios.

The doctors patching him up had insisted on a light Eridium treatment. Something about ensuring he was 'back on his feet in no time,' though he knew better than to assume it wasn't at Jack's insistence. He groused and turned around, despite the concoctions of pain meds his shoulder still hurt from the damaged muscles.

The bedroom door creaked. Opening his eyes he found himself staring at Jack's knees. He sniffed the air suspiciously and found a pile of fresh muffins was looking both beckoning and bewildering sitting on a plate on the bedside table. Lawrence threw his hands onto his echo and wrote out the first thing to mind. He shoved the device into Jack’s face.

_‘Were you fucking stress baking?’_

Jack dropped a muffin onto his chest.

“Eat."

"Y-yu... unt," Lawrence whispered only half words, his vocal cords were still out of use.

A low growl escaped Jack, evidently knowing the word he just tried to call him. Ignoring him, Lawrence’s favoured to glare at the suspicious and small but very appetising muffin.

 _'You almost killed me, that equals at least three cakes! Do you remember anything?'_ Lawrence typed furiously onto the echo.

"No," Jack answered curtly, but he knew his lover long enough to notice when he was lying.

 _'Try that again,'_ the message flashed across the screen before he shoved the stupid muffin away.

Jack moved the discarded muffin back onto the plate before sitting on the edge of the bed. He abruptly resembled a much older man. His shoulders slumped forward, an incredibly rare sight for Jack and the bags under his eyes were noticeable even under the mask.

"It was something painful. My brain felt like it was melting," he finally said through clenched teeth. "It's never been like that before." Jack persisted in staring forward, his gaze refusing to meet Lawrence's.

"After that, I woke up on the floor with Nisha using my damn pocket watch as a fucking ashtray."

Usually, discussions were few and short on what transpired during Jack's trance's, but it bothered Lawrence, and it bothered him a lot. Was it worth telling him that he'd been raving about how Lawrence had been killing him over and over again in some dream? He thought better of it. Still, there were so many details that clawed at his mind.

He stretched out and gently poked Jack so his attention would reach the echo-comm screen.

_'You said something was wrong with my body.'_

Lawrence tried to keep the screen steady for Jack to read, all while fidgeting in a manner the man did not appreciate.

"With MY body?" Jack gave him a puzzled stare. "Bullshit, I am perfect."

_'I think you meant me.'_

"Well, kitten, keep that figure in check, and you'll stay perfect too." He raised his hand and pinched at the skin on Lawrence's hip.

Lawrence only wrote one word on the echo.

 _'Pretzel_.’

Jack scoffed and gently whacked him on the stomach, Lawrence groaned and pulled away.

"You're getting really brash, Timmy. Watch your tone and eat that muffin. Docs told me it wouldn't hurt to loosen the diet for this week. Gain some mass."

Apparently, that was Jack caring. If he said to gain weight and not to lose it, then he must be really shaken and concerned. Despite being himself soft around the edges, he had an iron grip on what Lawrence shoved in his mouth.

“I’ve had Meg clear your schedule for tomorrow, you’re getting a full checkup. If there is something wrong, which there isn’t, we will find it.”

Lawrence nodded and closed his eyes, it ached to have them open. He didn't need a mirror to know they were bloodshot, his right, the non cybernetic one kept weeping tears. Worst of all, his breathing was disjointed, and it annoyed him how much he wheezed.

Jack's weight shifted on the bed, and he pried an eye open to watch him kick off his shoes and join him in the centre of the mattress.

Jack said nothing, which was equally unnerving to his previous rabid self.

“I can't remember why I wanted to kill you.” Jack shifted uncomfortably, it was subtle, yet Lawrence knew all of his tells. "Did I say anything else?"

Lawrence heaved as he tried to put his voice back to work, but all that came out was a rasping noise, like a dying skag.

 _“I would NEVER, touch you... You are beneath me... Useless... Whiny ... Pathetic.”_ Jack’s words rang through his mind.

Yeah, Jack had said a lot of things, out of all the weird yelling regarding dreams and broken bodies that line was still scratching away at Lawrence's mind. His lack of response was no doubt infuriating, as he could feel the man beside him stiffen. Despite said rage, Jack lifted his hand. His movements were slow, tender as he held it to the side of Lawrence's jaw and then, Lawrence did something he had not done in a _very_ long time.

He flinched.

He flinched away from Jack, it was only a momentary lapse of judgement, but Jack saw it. His hands clawed away from Lawrence and turned into fists.

"What else did I say, Timmy?"

Jack was visibly shaking now. There was a mighty rage building behind his eyes and Lawrence had no clue if it was gearing up to be aimed at him.

"n-n..hing," he choked out. Resisting the urge to scramble off the bed. To move again would surely break the dam that was Jack's wrath.

Jack flung an arm over him, pulling Lawrence's strained body toward him, his hand returned to his jaw, and this time it wasn't gentle. Jack dug his nails in and held him still, forcing their gaze together, inches apart.

"What did I do?" Jack growled low, so quiet it would be inaudible if not for their closeness. "Tell me _everything_."

Lawrence fidgeted under Jack's grip.

"Tim," Jack reiterated his name, and his voice wavered. Anyone else would have missed it.

Lawrence felt the tension in his throat relax, he let the air held captive inside him wheeze out. Jack wasn't mad at him, he was livid, sure, but it wasn't at him.

He leaned his head forward pushing their face's apart and pressed into the recces of Jack's neck, hiding both their expressions away. Their little trick so neither of them could read what the other was thinking. Jack's hands drew away from Lawrence's jaw and found their way over his back, his blunt nails dug into him. Jack's grip was as relentless as it was when it had been on his throat.

The wheezing coming from his chest was deafening, and he softly mouthed a curse. Jack's hands slowly released their vice grip and soon after they were trailing up and down Lawrence’s back, mindful not to draw to close to his neck.

"I would never hurt you, that wasn't me, you know that right?"

Lawrence responded sleepily and shuffled to rest his head on Jack's lap. His lover’s fingers were curled into his hair, slowly untangling messy locks and gently ghosting along his scalp.

"Good. Rest now, kitten."

Though the softness in his voice was lulling, Jack's hands were a clear indicator that rest was not what he was after. Already they had moved to skim under the waistband of his pants, kneading at the tender flesh. Lawrence hummed deeply at the touch. There was no pain anymore: the concoction of drugs he was on had his mind swimming, and so he relaxed, letting Jack continue his ministrations.

"Let me take care of you, Timmy."

Jack's hand palmed over Lawrence’s back, taking on his weight and lowering him onto his back and into the fluffed up pillows. In one smooth movement, Jack straddled his waist, and Lawrence’s heart froze, hands curling anxiously at his sides.

He had done this before when he turned mad from the trance, hands locking on Lawrence’s windpipe. Part of him was ready to kick Jack off, but he stilled, realising the other man did nothing but lay on top of him, planting soft kisses to his neck. Eventually, Jack's palm slid down and found his hand. Impatient fingers were twisted into his fist, spreading the palm open so Jack could have their fingers intertwined, identical scars on top of each other.

His breathing hitched with every tender movement as Jack's kisses trailed along the bruising, marking the flesh just as his hands had done in the previous cycle.

Lawrence moaned and pulled a hand free to curl into Jack's dishevelled hair. The other man had not even bothered to style it, he realised, and it made him grin as he played with the wax-free curls. Jack really must have been riled up to not have bothered taking care of his morning routine.

"Hmm, kitten," Jack purred, lips pulling away to meet his. "I nearly lost you again," he whispered between a harsh kiss. "You know I can't lose you?"

Lawrence whined and arched his back to gain some friction onto his hardening dick.

Jack pulled upwards, and the lust on his face was stripped away, replaced with something more serious. Sombre, almost.

"I'm going to kill the AI."

"W-h...t?!" Lawrence wheezed while scrambling up so he could lean against the headboard of the bed.

"Project Tartarus. It's over and I’m gonna nuke it tonight."

Lawrence was breathing heavily, shaking his head. It made no sense. The project was _everything_ to Jack. It was his fallback, his chance of immortality, his way to forever rule and own Hyperion.

"Don't look so shocked Timmers," Jack pulled a coy smile. He raised his hand and cupped the side of Lawrence's cheek. "I've got you now."

Lawrence's blood felt like ice, freezing him on the spot. Unable to move or speak he only blinked dumbly. He was here to stay. He would never go anywhere anymore, Jack said so. A warm feeling slowly bloomed in his chest and the next moment shot down to his abdomen, shaping into pure want. Lawrence all but launched himself at Jack, both hands latching onto and pulling the other man to him as they fell back onto the bed. This time it was Lawrence who straddled Jack.

He swallowed, trying to clear his throat and willed his voice to work.

"I… I..."

_I want you to fuck me._

But all that came out was wheezing turned words,

"Fu...h-ck me," He breathed out, voice dark and compelling despite the stuttering.

"Oh, Timmy, I can do _that_ ," His lover answered slyly as he grabbed his arm and pulled him down to catch his lips in a passionate kiss.

Lawrence spread his legs and lets his toes curl into the covers. His hands landed on either side of Jack's face as he trailed them into his hair and down his jaw, searching for the clips.

Unmasking Jack was always a tricky affair. The man would tense and hesitate, issuing a warning growl. It was a threshold few ever passed and lived to remember. Eventually, Lawrence too had found his way around this issue. His free hand in Jack's pants did an excellent job of distracting the other man long enough to undo the clips.

Victorious, he lightly tossed the mask onto the bedside table before kissing Jack under his eyes. His lips trailed over the scar, every touch causing the man under him to relax. The brand was always raw and sensitive, ever the last wall for him to break down. His lips finished their arch and landed on Jack's opened mouth.

Their kiss was long, needy, and passionate. Hands tugging at each other in utter desperation to close what tiny space they had between them. Jack's small whines and huffs of pleasure made Lawrence’s head spin with lust. Giving in to his most primal of urges he desperately ground his hips against him.

"I've wanted you all damn day," Jack panted in his ear, "You putting up all that fight earlier? It sure was something, kitten."

He barely remembered his time in theatre. Fear scratched away most of the memories but he did recall a blade in hand and someone's throat painting his face red. He hummed at the thought, pleased to have carved some kind of pain onto those who hurt him.

Lawrence moved his hand under Jack's shirt and slowly drew his fingers up to his chest, pausing momentarily to feel Jack's heartbeat under his fingertips. His racing heart gave away his composure. Lawrence smiled brashly before clawing lightly into the flesh, dragging his fingers down to the navel. He pulled away, taking a moment to gaze down at the flushed and dishevelled man below him. Jack was never this relaxed when Nisha was in the picture and he was thankful it was just the two of them.

Jack wiggled up onto his elbows, giving him the leverage to unbutton his shirt and remove it overhead.

With his chest bare Lawrence got to work. Teeth grazing across an exposed nipple he caught it with his lips and mouthed at the flesh, leaving faint marks across Jack's front. It wasn't long until he had his face buried into the coils of Jack's groin. Breathing in slowly he took in Jack's musk. And once again the feeling of home and safety washed over him, sending the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Lawrence's hands wound around Jack's waist and slowly pulled down his pants to reveal what they both shared.

Becoming Jack had its benefits, Lawrence smirked while gazing down at Jack's hard pre-cum leaking cock.

Jack raised a hand and began to palm at Lawrence's own dick, still straining against his grey track pants. Arching his back he pushed into the touch. Hungry for more friction, he needed Jack to strip him and touch him everywhere. He needed to show how much it meant to him, all of it.

He needed Jack's touch.

He needed Jack inside of him.

 _His_ Jack

Not the monster who had taken him away.

"Timmy you've gone quiet again, I mean," Jack chuckled lightly, voice smooth as butter. "You don't have a voice to say anything, but whatcha thinking of?"

_Of you._

Lawrence fell back to catch Jack's lips, all the while wriggling to get himself free from his pants. Jack eagerly helped him out, and with a wolfish smile and the click of his tongue, he assessed Lawrence's tone stomach.

“Looking good Timmy, considering.” Jack touched him slowly and as he pleased, assessing the muscles even pinching the skin for a reaction.

Lawrence drew a sharp breath as Jack's hands teased along his groin and around his waist. The palms of Jack's hands were now firmly across his ass, digging into the flesh and, once again, Jack made a pleased sound as he spread Lawrence's cheeks. He snorted at Jack's playful antics.

“Damn you are just perfect, ain't you?”

Naked and stupidly horny the two of them fought to be on top. This dance has always happened, and Lawrence would inevitably end up submitting but it amused him greatly to fight Jack into the pillows and hold him down.

It was quite the troublesome task today. The pain meds were doing their magic and, while taking out the bite from his wounds, they still left him achy and quick to tire.

Jack spun Lawrence onto his stomach and yanked his hips up, so his ass was to the sky.

"Godammit Timmy, why are you such a tease?" Jack leaned over him, and with one lubed hand he ran it from the tip of Lawrence's cock all the way to his entrance. Teasing him back and forth before letting his finger curl inside of him.

Lawrence moaned obscenely loud and bowed his head into the pillow. Jack had become exceptionally good over the years. He wasn’t sure how many men Jack had been with before him, but he knew it wasn’t many.

Jack took his time. Running one hand up and down his cock, while the fingers on the other worked their way inside.

He tried to rasp Jack's name but all the escaped him was another short cry of pleasure. His other-half chuckled. The sound vibrated down his back, making his hands wind into the sheets.

"Tell me when you're ready," and Jack barked out laughing when Lawrence could only hiss in response. He resisted the urge to roll over and tackle the man to the floor. Feelings of dominance evaporated from his inflamed mind the moment Jack's hard cock entered his ass.

Lawrence whined, and Jack moaned as the full length of his cock fucked into him.

" _Fuck_."

It was the only word Jack could breathe out.

Lawrence had him. He had Jack with a hook lodged into his core, and all it took was for him to force his hips back for the other man to cry out in a dizzy pleasure.

"Timmy," Jack called out drunkenly, digging his nails into Lawrence's hips with every burning thrust. The pain was slowly dissolving into enjoyment as Jack guided a hand to take Lawrence’s very neglected cock and started to firmly stroke it inline with every movement.

They found a pace that made him weak with pleasure and Jack cry out all kinds of nonsensical things. His other half buried his face into the curve of Lawrence's neck and nibbled at the flesh. The touch made him clench and Jack hiss into his skin with desire, locking his jaws tighter and bruising the skin.

"You make me want to lose control, you know that Timmy?"

Jack fucked into him with brutal efficiency, every thrust hitting him on that sensitive spot that made him beg his name.  

"The things I want to do to you, goddamnit, you'd be so perfect just like this all the time."

"ahk—" He tried to call his name, and Jack only laughed at his desperate plea.

Jack may not be as strong as him, but there was still some power to be wielded by the other man. His hands shoved Lawrence’s hips off his cock, and the feeling of becoming empty from the loss made him produce a strangled needy noise. Jack grabbed Lawrence under the chest and threw him onto his back. He really did not need an invitation as he happily wound his legs around Jack's upper back, pulling him close and urging his lover back inside him.

"Good boy." Jack breathed out with a happy sigh and returned to his steady pace, keeping him wanting more, compelling him to cry out but he could not.

Lawrence could only dig his nails into Jack's biceps as a form of compliance. Bruising the skin in a silent demand for more.

"I'm going to keep you safe," Jack said as he picked up his pace.

Lawrence began to feel lightheaded, at the thought of only him and Jack forever. No AI, no more erasure, just him.

"I'm going to keep you here forever," Jack rasped and bit into his neck. "Do you want that? Timmy?"

 _Yes_. Lawrence wished he could answer.  

Jack pushed him up so his hips hovered off the bed, thrusting at this new angle the two of them would not last. But he wanted it for longer, he needed Jack like this for as long as he could have him. Lawrence brushed his hand up the front of Jack's chest and encouraged him to bend down. He was desperate to catch his lips, to feel the heat from his breath.

He needed more skin contact, he needed -

A savage heat boiled inside of him, begging to spill over.

He could feel Jack's smile stretching against him, and behind those rasped breaths he could hear the words of praise. They seeped across his lust dazed mind.

"You look so good," Jack moaned with praise followed by a nip. "So good."

Not once had Jack's hand left his cock, stroking him in time with every desperate thrust and breath. Covered in sweat, hair sprawled across his face and cheeks flushed red. Jack was a man unravelling with desire. This display was for his eyes only, and Lawrence never wanted it to end.

It was killing him, the need for release, and yet, to keep Jack as he was.

Pride swept across him, coiling into his stomach into something more primal. That he could do this to the most powerful man in the galaxy was pushing him to the edge.

It was with a deep kiss that he came. Groaning loudly he raked his hands down Jack's chest and dug his feet into the covers. Cum decorating his stomach as Jack continued to bend him in half. Desperate to keep the momentum but also to have his lips on his.

Jack's hands had surely bruised his hips. He held on as if he was the only lifeboat in the ocean of Jack's paranoia. Head buried into his neck, Jack fucked him until Lawrence couldn't focus on anything but the pain from losing the high of his orgasm.

"Fuck!" Jack cried out, his hips stilled as he breathed deeply into Lawrence's neck. "Fucking hell."

Jack slowly worked his hips to milk out the last of his orgasm. Sweat ran down his throat and with the shake of his head, his hair whipped back into messy locks.

"Little sore?"

Jack laughed again at his inability to speak. Groaning he swatted Jack's teasing fingers away.

Jack coming was a relief, and he held no shame at kicking his lover off him when he was done. Lawrence breathed deeply, eyes closed he let the moment pass by and send him adrift.

He made a sound that was meant to be an invitation, but it did not really follow through. Jack raised a brow, all while wiping himself off at the side of the bed. Lawrence stretched out and grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

He wanted to tell him to stay with him, to not leave for work, but he could not. Instead, he pulled Jack close and wound his legs around him and buried his head into the nook of his lover's neck.

Jack obliged, kicking away the messed up sheets he collapsed back down onto the bed.

"You ok kitten?" Jack whispered, and Lawrence nodded against him. Hand searching for his before letting sleep swiftly take him away.

* * *

Timothy's back was marked up nicely. Red scratches tore down his spine, and Jack's handprint was still marked on his ass. A trickle of cum seeped between his parted legs backing that he had performed his double's wishes well. Timothy was out cold. Too wrecked to even shower.

He leaned over and kissed the synthetic skin on the back of Timmy's neck. Eliciting a small flinch and whine from the sleeping man. The port was always tender.

Jack got up, stretched and dressed. It was very late in the cycle, and most of Helios would be sleeping, but not those in R&D. They had around the clock shifts. They were on a freakin space, it's not like there wasn't a day and night cycle that couldn't be controlled by the station.

R&D wasn't a long journey, their apartment was only a short distance from his office, and from there he could fast travel across the entire station. Clearing through all the security fields, Jack marched down the eerily quiet halls. Even the monsters here needed sleep.

It was in the furthest reaches of the station that the AI waited and to reach it Jack needed to clear through more checkpoints. These guarded doors were without electronic locks or software. Beyond this point, there was nothing coded save for the AI.

He could not risk his digital self going rampant into Helios severs. Removing the AI laws was warranted to ensure it was a capable and convincing Jack, but with that came a whole host of problems.

The digital Jack was insane. A virus, intent on copying itself, and infecting everything piece of software or tech it could get it hands on. Once it got into a single loader and wiped out half the night shift staff.

Since then the AI had been on lockdown. Only visited by himself and one other.

Nimiyana.

"Jack!"

He scowled at the flippant and all too casual address. Namyikna was far too comfortable for his liking, but his brilliance could not be understated.

"So late, what brings you here? Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Ay, maybe something a little stronger?" The man presented a sleazy wink that made Jack's skin crawl.

"Show me the AI."

This was all business, and he did not desire to spend a moment away from his bed and from the man under its covers.

Niymana led him from the central station to the larger screens at the back. There really wasn't a lot needed to store the AI, just a server (which was strictly disconnected from everything) and a screen.

His digital self was never one to lurk.

"Meeeeaaaattt Jack!" The AI cheered. "It's been too long. Was beginning to think you forgot about me, since you know, you  locked me up in here." The AI started to laugh, a cold and dead sounding tone. "Oh boy, do I wish I could GREET you with both my hands. Wouldn't THAT be a treat."

"How did you do it?" Jack whispered.

"What's that? Can't hear you cupcake, speak up."

Jack breathed deeply through his nose and pulled his gaze away from those iridescent blue eyes. The trance was like no other, something else had clawed into his mind, and there was only one suspect he could accuse.

The AI wanted its freedom, more than anything, it wanted Timothy.

"Oh come on Jack!" The electronic voice cried with brash amusement. "You're lookin a little pale, why don't you share what's on your mind with little old me, hmmm?"

"Enough." He turned, not wanting to see his own face when he gave the command.

"Kill it."

Nakaynsha blinked dumbly and fixed the edges of his coat as he stumbled his words.

"What... um, sir? Jack? You just said a remarkably amusing thing, thought for a moment you said, 'kill'? Hahaha, you meant-"

"Yeah, what the freak Meat-Jack?!" The AI boomed from the screen.  

"Did I stutter?" Jack leaned over the scientists. Wishing he hadn't as the man did not dally with basic human grooming. "KILL-THE-PROJECT!" Every word uttered with a cutting glare.

"THAT!" he pointed at the AI, "is toast. I want it gone."

"NO!" Niymasha wailed, going as far as to latch onto the front of Jack's coat. "Why?! Sir, why?"

"It's lived out its usefulness."

"B-But countless years of work–"

"It was a fun side project to keep you amused, nothing more."

"The things we've learnt in mapping the brain, YOUR brain-"

Jack shrugged him off and threw the pleading man to the floor.

"Enough!"

Removing his weapon from its holster, he shoved the barrel into Nyminka's skull. He was ready to paint the floors in brain matter when a slow clap gave him reason to pause. Jack pulled his gaze from the scientist's snot and tear marked face over to the screen housing the AI.

It wasn't like gazing at Timmy; his double looked at him with nothing but devotion, fear, or lust, depending on what Jack wanted that day. The AI on the other hand, only had contempt, rage, and disgust for him.

"Oh, I know why," his own digital face sneered, and the size of the screen made the condescending stare larger than necessary. "Admit it _Jack_ , you're not a fan of things you can't control."

Jack ignored his other-self and made for the controls. So be it, he would delete the AI himself.

"Just like Angel. The second you couldn't control her, you contained her. And now me."

Jack's hands stilled over the controls and bunched into fits, He was ready to smash the damn keypad to pieces when he turned back around.

"What did you say?!"

"You heard me." The AI's voice was a whisper void of empathy or humanity, "We all know you can't let her go, and you sure as hell won't let me go either."

It was as if a corrosive round had exploded inside his chest, fury turned him blind, and the pain made his hands turn to fists. He was ready to spit acid.

"Do not _dare_ mention my daughter-"

"I think you mean _our_ "

"You are nothing to her! A bunch on nonexistent code!" Jack cut him off with a bark of anger. "You've _never_ experienced a moment that I haven't shoved into your damn head! You've never gone through what I had to endure!"

"You're right there," the AI drawled, unphased by anything he had to say. "I already removed all the painful stuff. Blah blah blah, granny hits little Johnny, blah blah blah shapes him into a monster incapable of love. What comes next? Oh right, the dead wife–"

Jack's nails dug so deep he drew blood across his palms.

"Enough!"

"You imprisoned our daughter! For once listen to yourself! We are monsters, you are sick in the god damn head!" The AI yelled out of the comm before dropping to a dark note. "But at least I have the guts to say it. You're a psycho Jack. Admit it."

Jack's body shook as he swallowed down the searing rage within, the AI would not get the satisfaction of a reaction.

"That mask you wear, anit much different from a bandit mask. What you hiding under there, John?"

"You are just a broken copy. A failed experiment, I have no use for you."

"That winy, pathetic double you use isn't going to tell you the truth! They are nothing without you! But ME?! I can help you confront everything you've tried to bury. Starting with Angel. Be the father you never were."

Jack looked away, unable to face those piercing blue eyes. The scrutiny of his own glare was too much.

"Jack. You need to put me in the double's head. Let me fix this. Let me–"

"No."

The AI could never be what Timmy was; compliant.

He tore his attention back to the controls and began to break down the fails safes. The AI would fight back, and if it did? Well, he could always just blow the entire server up.

"Oh come on Meat-Jack! You're not going to survive with that pathetic excuse of Jack trailing behind you. Sooner or later he's gonna stab you in the back. They always do. "

Jack activated the virus designed to eat away at the AI's defences. Programmed to anticipate what the AI would throw at it, after all, he was fighting himself.

"Ahhh! Get a grip!" His digital voice cried. Distortion began to cut away at its words. "JACK!"

When the fail safes were down, he activated the last of his offensive programs to kill the code.

"Jack! Come on!"

There was a distinct pleading note in the AI's voice, and as the virus ate away, the cries became more frantic.

"JACK! PLEA-E! I can sa-e yo-!"

Nakyama was sobbing and wailing on the floor. The entire scene was unnecessarily dramatic. The AI wasn't HIM, it was some butchered bat-shit crazy version of himself, and he was sure if given the opportunity the AI would have killed him and taken his place.

"G-DAMIT -ACK!"

Jack abruptly swung around, face bright with victory.

"Cya, _cupcake_."

And the AI vanished with a spark of pixels. The server was empty and to make sure the job was done he fired his entire clip into the computer.

* * *

The sheets ruffled and the bed shifted under him. A heavy, yet warm weight pressed down beside him.

Jack had come home.

He reeked of liquor and cigarettes, whatever had transpired earlier in the week sent the man into one of his destructive spirals. Jack only drowned himself in certain substances - namely cigarettes - when things become especially dire. It had been like this all week.

Lawrence had stayed at home recovering from the surgery, waiting for his voice to return while Jack hung back at work. He had even missed Friday Firing time.

Jack said nothing and collapsed with his back to him. It was early morning, and the lights in their room were already beginning to simulate the rising sun.

Jack’s back was visible above the sheets, but unlike the rest of him, which was a dark bronze, his back was littered with white lines. His fingers ghosted over the thin ancient scars that ran down the other man's spine. Lawrence had identical marks grafted down his own back, a mark for every mark on Jack. Lawrence traced a little too close, and Jack rolled over, squishing his fingers in the process.

“What are you doing Timmy?”

Jack’s eyes remained shut, and Lawrence raised a brow, surprised to see him without the mask. Stubble littered his jawline, and Jack's eyes were sunken into dark sockets.

It had been a long week for both of them, and this was new territory for Lawrence. For a long time, all Jack had been interested in was fucking himself, and they’d done a lot of that. He was sure this ‘dance’ between them would have ended by now.

Either with a bullet or an AI in his head.

But both those things persisted to become threats of the past.

Every night this week Jack would come home, not say a word and just collapse into his waiting arms. No harsh words or corrections, just an exhausted Jack seeking affection and comfort. Lawrence would wordlessly hold him, expecting him to snap out of his trance and belitter him for being so sappy.

Yet that would never happen.

“You’re doing the silence thing again,” Jack murmured.

“Just thinkin,” he replied with a sigh. Sleep was escaping his mind with every passing moment. Stretching, he threw a lazy arm over Jack's shoulder, pulling him close.

“Why do we both have scars on our backs?”

The question had lingered with him for years, and now it blurted out without a thought for the consequences.

Jack stirred and moved closer so that his head was forced into the recess of his neck. A cute gesture, but he knew this was Jack’s trademark way of hiding his face from him. Hiding the feelings his face would reveal.

“Because Timmy, I had a very bad mouth as a child.” Jack chewed the words against the sensitive skin under Lawrence’s jaw.

He snorted at the not so surprising revelation. Flinching a little when Jack hit a tender part just over his collarbone at his sniper mark.

“I bet," he said, nuzzling his nose into Jack's hair.

Jack’s stubble grazed him as he spoke. “Dear sweet Granny made sure there was a mark for every naughty word I uttered. So naturally, there are a lot of scars.”

“Oh…” Lawrence held him tighter at the realisation of Jack’s instinctive retaliation to swearing.

Now it was Jack’s turn to snort, “I don’t need your pity,” yet, Jack didn’t resist and only pressed against him, seeking comfort.

Lawrence said nothing and just let his hand trails soft circles down the curve of Jack’s back.

"You should take some time off work."

"Why?" Jack growled it was a low rumbling sound that vibrated through Lawrence's jaw. "This floating tin can would fall without me."

"Us." Lawrence corrected. "Got my voice back, let me take over."

Jack didn't reply.

Lawrence rolled onto his back and stretched out his limbs, his hands touched the headboard, and he tightened them to get the blood flow going.

“If you’re getting up, then I may as well,” Jack said, with an angry huff.

“You haven't slept.”

“That's what amphetamines are for.”

He let out a stiff sigh, relaxed his joints and curled back into the bed. If he stayed for another hour or two then maybe Jack would get some sleep. He could give the man that. Jack curled up onto his chest, the lines on his back becoming exposed once again.

Lawrence’s mind could not escape Jack's past. Didn't he once say his grandmother killed his cat? Lawrence's eyes narrowed at the thought. The loss and pain a child must have experienced to become the man who laid on top of him.

How different would have events been if he'd only gotten the childhood he deserved?

Lawrence's nails drew along the scars, counting them from the base of Jack's back all the way to his neck. The wretched woman had inflicted them where no one could see them, Lawrence wondered if anyone else knew of Jack's grim past. The worst of the scars ran right down Jack's spine, thicker than the rest it had never healed and faded like the others.   

"What happened here," he asked, hand lightly touching the mark.

"I... I ran away," Jack murmured onto his chest. "And when she found me... She said she was going to rip my spine from my back. So that I could never leave again."

Lawrence stopped his ministrations and wrapped both arms over Jack's back and held him close. His job was to protect him from such horrors; the assassinations, the kidnappings, enemies lurking from within or outside the station walls, but all that aside he could not save him from his past.

“We should kill her.” The words escaped Lawrence faster than he'd given them any thought.

“What?” Jack said, his face still buried into him.

“Your grandmother,” he replied flatly. "We should kill her."

“I-I can’t kill my grandmother.” Jack pulled himself away, his face moments from turning dark. He was probably going to blame Lawrence for the stutter, for revealing that slip-up.  

“You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll do it.”

His hand had been pulled away from Jack's back, but it still lingered on his arm. Jack didn’t batter it away, a small consolation.

“And why would you do that?” Jack's voice was low. His eyes narrowed, suspicion was written into every corner of his face.

“Cause... she hurt you?” He hadn't meant to pose the statement as a question, but doubt flooded his mind. This wasn't the reaction he had expected.

“A lot of people have hurt me.” Jack eyed him like a beast eyed a hunter; determined to attack and devour.

“But you were just a kid.”

A painfully silent moment passed, and in what felt like aeons Jack’s expression finally smoothed out.

“Hero’s don’t kill their grandmothers,” he admitted almost bitter about the fact. With an exasperated sigh, he fell back into Lawrence's arms, his head hit his chest winding the air out of him.

"Drop it, Timmy."

"But-"

"I'll deal with her when I'm ready."

Sleep claimed Jack swiftly. His head remained buried on the dark curls of Lawrence's chest, breathing in slow and deep Jack was off somewhere Lawrence couldn't reach him.

He closed his eyes and perhaps gained a slither of rest before their alarm demanded they wake.

Lawrence groaned the loudest about leaving the bed. It was the weekend, but Jack was determined to get him back into the gym today. A week out of it and he'd already started to lose muscle mass.

"Up, Timmers, we have a meeting today."

"What?" Lawrence slurred, still struggling to keep his eyes open. "Jack," he whined, "its a Saturday. Get a damn pocket double to do it."

"No."

And that was the end of that conversation.

Lawrence cursed and got dressed, pulling on his Hyperion sweater and jeans. Only to be met with Jack's scrutiny. Brow furrowed as he looked him up and down, disgust smearing across his face when he finished his assessment.

"You're not leaving the apartment looking like that."

"Oh come on, who the hell are we seeing?"

"Get dressed properly, I want you looking sharp."

Lawrence stalked off to the bathroom and began the stupid long routine of styling his hair, shaving, and equipping the mask. Dressed in a fine navy linen suit, with Hyperion gold accents and a matching vest he was able to meet Jack's expectations.

"Good," Jack purred while correcting a loose strand of hair from its coif. "Today is a very special day."

The bottom of Lawrence's stomach dropped, and his hands were shoved into his pockets to hide his fists.

"Um... what?" He flushed red, frustrated at his lack of conviction. "What's happening today?"

Jack only wielded a wicked grin and lightly patted him on the shoulder.

"Come."

And he was lead from the apartment.

Jack's cryptic silence was eating him away, every step caused him to fidget and slump. This was just like the searing. Jack kept quiet about the details warranting his presence until it was too late. Jack feared he would try to run, and he was right. He would have.

"Jack," Lawrence's strained whisper was oddly loud against the quiet halls. "What's going on?"

When Jack said nothing Lawrence completely stopped. Paralysed of the thought of more non-consensual surgeries, another mark to claim him as Jack's, maybe killing the AI was a lie to keep him compliant?

He should have asked to see it killed. He should have made sure it was a done deal, gone for good.

Lawrence was physically shaking as he latched his hand onto the back of his neck and slowly stepped away. When Jack reached the office door, he swung around glaring at the absence of Lawrence on his tail.

" _Come here_."

He meekly shook his head.

"Timmy," Jack hissed and lunged forward. Nails digging into Lawrence's wrists and pulling him into the office.

"Please, Jack. I-I can't."

"Dammit, Timmy!" Jack threw him over the threshold of the office.

Fear overwhelmed him turning his vision spotty. Sweat dripped down his neck where his hand remained clamped over it.

The doors locking behind him sealed his fate.

Jack was hissing and cursing as he straitening out his coat from Lawrence's scuffle.

"Get over it," Jack spat while dragging him again up to their desk.

The questions died in Lawrence's throat as they approached the centre of the room.

A man was waiting for them, and this struck him as odd. _No one_ , besides Nisha, Meg, and he was allowed in the office without Jack's presence, and Lawrence had never seen this guy.

The stranger stood upright, arms crossed behind his back. The jacket was military make but bore no emblems for Lawrence to recognise.

Lawrence remained silent, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as he eyed Jack. Waiting for a tell. Very few got to see them side by side and live. What the hell was going on.

"Timmy, this is Callum Zelus."

Lawrence stopped his fidgeting and stepped back, legs parted almost ready to flee. Jack had said _his_ name. _His_ name in front of an unknown. No one, not even Nisha could call him that.

"Come back here," Jack groaned and grabbed his sleeve yanking him in front of the man.

Cold grey eyes watched his hesitation. Zelus, like him, had more scars than he could count, and a face that could stare down even the likes of Wilhelm. His most notable one was a scar that had been covered in a rose tattoo blooming up his neck.

"Zelus is an enforcer. MY enforcer"

He raised a brow. "But Wilhelm?"

"I don't keep all my eggs in one airlock."

He frowned at Jack's rather absurd phrasing.

"Think of him as a very well armed lawyer. He sees that my personal affairs, that's you, Timmy, remain in order." There was a bright gleam in Jack's eyes, the same look he possessed when he wielded the brand above his face.

Lawrence glanced between the two men. He had never seen nor heard of this guy, and yet Jack trusted him enough to reveal his identity?

"Jack?" he tried to start, but his lover cut him off was a tsk of a finger.

"The less you know, the better. It's for your own good."

Lawrence shoved his hands into his pockets, rubbing them on the lining to rid him of the sweat across his palms.

"Zelos has something for you to sign."

No, Lawrence bitterly thought, and the urge to turn and flee returned. Eyes wide he stared at Jack pleadingly, the puppy act worked most days, but there was a fire inside Jack. A heat so compelling that Lawrence was sure if he disobeyed the flames would engulf him.

"And I suppose I'm not allowed to know what it is?"

"Attaboy," Jack beamed. "Trust me, Timmy, you're gonna want to sign this document."

He doubted it, and yet he nodded slowly and resigned his fate into the other man's hands.

"Yes, Jack."

Zelos offered him a Hyperion yellow pen, and he gingerly took it. The holo-pad was presented to him, and he could see there was a 548-page document attached to the file based on the page number. The file was already at the end, ready for him to sign in the designated spot. Just like everything he signed, Jack would never let him read the contents.

But it did not have his name. 'Handsome Jack' was absent and in its place was 'Timothy Peter Lawrence'.

Jaw dropping he pulled the pen from the document and glanced at Jack. The other man flashed him a threatening glare and pressed an encouraging, yet forceful hand into his shoulder.

" _Sign_ the document Timmy."

And he did. Lawrence signed the document in Jack's signature, perfect to the little curl at the end.

"No Timmy." Jack seethed, voice becoming strained from an impending rage. "I need your  _old_ signature."

A test. It had been years since Jack had forced one of these onto him. Lawrence resigned the document again with Handsome Jack's name.

"Dammit, Timmy, your old signature, you know, your name?! before you were double." Frustration crinkled his eyes, ruining the illusion of his smooth and perfect mask.

Lawrence took a step back and shook his head. No, it had to be an examination. Jack would _never_ allow this breach of contract.

"I can't," he whispered, so low he hoped the other man would not hear him.

Jack snapped and grabbed the sleeve of Lawrence's suit and dragged him back to the document, shoving his hand down he whispered into his ear.

"Just this once, I want your old signature, and then we can forget any of this happened."

Lawrence's arm was shaking, but Jack raised his other hand and holding both of them to his wrist he slowly encouraged the pen to the document.

"Sign it."

and Lawrence did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting by a week! Eeeeep. I ended up adding in two new scenes for this chapter so it became way bigger than a i planned and i needed more time to get it right.
> 
> Comments are SO appreciated! Hope to hear from you :3 and your theories about the AI, and the mystery document Tim signed :D
> 
>  **Next Update:** Crake and Tim are back in the Dust, and Angel and the others are not too far away!
> 
> Special thanks to Eternal Garbage for spicing up the feels in places.[](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.


	42. You Need This

"Fuck, finally!" Tim stumbled ahead and stretched his non-swollen arm. "Hell, the sun feels bloody good."

Crake did not know but took his word for it.

Tim did not bother to venture much further. Instead, he trailed along the base of the cliff face, clinging to its shadow. When he found a little nook hidden by two larger boulders, he collapsed.

They had no supplies save for their echos, gear chips, and the health-kits Walter provided. The bike was stashed at the other end of the tunnel, as was the rest of Tim's gear and MeatFace. Though, regarding her, she was likely looking for a new owner; one with food.

Tim removed his jacket and shirt and laid them on the ground to offer himself some semblance of a pillow. The cove he lay in was tiny, and so Crake had to sit right beside him to stay out of sight.

"You should take another dose."

"Already on it," Tim murmured. He blindly pawed at his side for the vials. Despite the tremors and his exhaustion, he wielded the needle with accurate precision. Years of abuse had coordinated him as such.

Tim kept his eyes shut and winced as the tip found his skin.

"Hate these things," he whined as the silver dug into his flesh. He pushed down the plunger and released a small huff of pleasure as the contents spread into his system.

Tim flung the empty syringe away and immediately sought for another.

"No more." Crake waved his hand forward.

"Fine," Lawrence groaned while kicking off his boots.

"Get some rest. I'll keep watch."

"You always get the boring jobs."

"That's because you're a full-time commitment."

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes. He fidgetted on the spot seeking to dislodge uneven stones before finding a comfortable position to lay amongst the sand and his clothes.

Tim slept through most of the Pandora heat. Only stirring to ask for another dosage. There was nothing Crake could do to stop him, but he seemed to resigned his wishes whenever Crake told him 'no'. Without water or food, it was all he had to survive off, and Crake wasn't going to let him waste them so he could get high.

Silence had been their company since leaving the Atlas tunnel and so when the sand scratched against the earth  Crake reached for his weapon. Pixelating to his feet he moved along the cliff edge, rifle raised and ready. He would not fail to defend Tim again.

However, there was no mistaking the loud whiny sound coming from the tunnel; MeatFace had found them. The Skag launched herself through the veiled cliff face almost stacking it on the uneven ground on the other side.

She yelped happily and pranced on the spot before sniffing the earth.

"Over here!" Crake beckoned, "you dumb mutt," he cursed under his breath.

Meatface's wide jaw opened up in delight, and she ran for their small cove. She immediately sought out Tim and launched herself on top of him, 'kissing' happily.

"Fuck!" Tim starting yelling as he woke. "What the Fuck!? The fuck is happening!?" He frantically kicked and pushed away from the slobbering beast as she pawed at him.

"MeatFace found us... Again." Crake said dryly with a coy smile.

"Well, we don't have food for you!" Lawrence growled as he wrapped two hands around her colossal jaws to stop them from devouring his shirt. "Scram!"

Crake made no attempt to intervene and chuckled deeply at the long list of curses Tim created just for the beast. When they had both exhausted themselves, Tim sat up, dressed, and leaned against the rockface with Meatface on his lap.

"How does she keep finding us?" He asked a little breathlessly.

Crake merely shrugged.

With some difficulty, Tim pulled his echo out from under the beast.

"Walter was right. We're on the other side of the range, right on the north side of the Dust."

"How close to Ellies?"

"Less than a cycle's drive."

Crake nodded. Though he did not feel physically tired he was looking forward to staying still and being in the open for once.

"Ok, hop off," Tim kicked restlessly to urge Meatface away. He failed, and in the end, he had to heave her off his lap. "You're not a damn lap cat!"

It took a moment for Lawrence to find his balance and get back on his feet. Crake pointlessly lingered close as if waiting to catch him if he fell. Slowly they made their way out of their little resting cove and back into the open.

"We should move away from the tracks," Crake suggested.

Tania's men may not have ventured inside the Atlas Facility, but they did use the tunnel. An encounter with them now would be fatal. Tim hummed in agreement, and they set off, walking close to the rock face to keep to the shadows. Meatface bounded around them, she had now discovered the enjoyment of running through him. His digistruct body giving her some kind of static entertainment.

" _Girl_ ," Tim groaned, "leave Crake alone."

They walked in comfortable silence. Their path slowly travelling downwards into a small gully. Shrubs and other cacti were becoming more numerous, providing Tim with much needed cool air. Without apparent reason, Tim moved into a light jog, and Crake had to pixelated to his side to scout ahead.

"Damn, this is perfect," he breathed out as a look of awe was cast across his face.

There was a river bank not far ahead, and according to Crake's maps, it was very likely the same river they had been driven into. He scanned the horizon and the tracks they had left in the sand. Determined to remain vigilant; Tania and her men could still be patrolling this area.

Tim was already intent on setting camp. He moved ahead to find another little pocket of shade and protection. Attaining a spot amongst the cacti, he removed his echo and gear-chip.

"Think that water is Thresher free?" He asked with a hopeful grin.

"The Dust is usually absent of them, but I'll investigate to be sure."

Crake went ahead with the scan and when he concluded none of the ripples or disturbed bank exhibited any evidence of giant beasts he told Tim it was ok.

"Good, cause I'm so done being covered in space-hurps gunk."

Tim rolled his shoulders and pulled his shirt over head and discarded it on top of his gear. Soon after his boots were kicked off and his jeans followed suit until he was down to his briefs.

Crake abruptly looked away. He should not stare, not as he was once forced to do. There was a time when he was responsible for Tim's routines and weight check-ins. Towards the end Jack became increasingly malicious and cruel when it came to Tim's physic, permanently ingraining in his double's mind that he was never good enough, never fit or slim enough to meet Jack's ludicrous standards.

Crake crossed his arms and silently stayed back as Tim edged towards the water. Meatface was overjoyed, and she vaulted forward and dove into the shallows. Attacking the splashes she made with her mouth and screeched at Tim to follow suit.

And Tim, to Crake’s utter surprise indulged. Splashing waves towards her and throwing rocks for her to chase.

He should check the perimeter, he reasoned, and with a flash of pixels, he moved as far from Tim as he could. He scanned the horizon, the ridge ahead, and the nearby scrubs for any danger before he flashed away to his next post.

Everything was clear, and without regarding where Tim was currently positioned he returned to his side.

Tim laughed when he reappeared waist deep in the water.

"Going to take a swim? He raised a brow and offered a grin that he did not appreciate.

Crake moved a hand forward and ran it across the water surface. "You know, you never did explain to Nyx what water felt like?"

"That's because it's impossible when you have no perception what anything feels like," Tim scoffed splashing the water at his sides.

Crake shrugged, he supposed he was right. Though, it would be interesting to hear how he'd explain it. Did it feel like the earth? Or a human touch? The leaves on a shrub? Or the back of a Skag? Crake did not know what any of those things felt like, but somehow a comparison would be nice.

"We'll fix it soon. I'm sure Angel can hack into a digistruct server to bring you something more material to 'wear'. Just as long as it's not a broken droid."

Crake silently agreed to that.

Tim bowed over and splashed water on his face, he ran his hands over his back and Crake took note of how he never touched his neck. When he brushed his fingers through his thick hair Crake looked away.

"Dammit, I've lost so much weight." Tim moved his hands over his stomach. Where there had once been a solid mass of muscle was now scar tissue.

"If Jack saw this-"

"He'd do what he always did," Crake replied firmly.

Cut all carbs, sugar, alcohol from Tim's diet, lock him away with nothing but a rigorous exercise plan to keep him busy. And who would be his keeper? Him and his brother.

Tim did not heed his words, and just like Jack, he pinched at the skin on his hip. Critical of the natural level of fat upon his body.

"Stop it!" Crake tried to slap Tim's hand away. "Your body is absolutely fine."

Tim dropped his hands back into the water, expression growing dark.

"It's not."

Crake closed his eyes – a rarity – and breathed deeply. He did not want another confrontation with his friend, but Jack's poison was in so deep he knew this was bound to happen.

Crake opened his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Yes, your body may have been torn to pieces, and you have the Eridium sickness, but your muscle mass and weight is not the issue. That was _his_ sick fixation. Don't let it become yours."

Tim huffed and splashed at the water irritably. He shouldn't have said anything, fuck. He just wanted Jack out of his friends head, and he had been responsible for keeping that psychopath there. And when Tim broke his AI laws he'd been so furious that apologies were so far from his mind, in fact, they had never come forth until now.

"I'm sorry," Crake blurted out.

"For what?" Tim's expression immediately softened, hands stilling at his sides.

"What I ah, um... did," Crake stuttered, and the vocal mishap was painfully obvious, making him cringe. "The reports, the constant surveillance, everything with Jack –"

Tim just shrugged. "I know he forced you... AI laws and all that. I've got way more things to apologise for."

"Breaking my AI's laws isn't one of them any more."

"Oh, it isn't? Tim raised a brow that was all cheek.

Crake growled and very much wished he could shove Tim's stupid grin under the water. He uncrossed his arms, wishing he hadn't as he must have shifted his shirt as Tim's eyes light up, glued to his chest.

"So what do you have hiding under there," Tim jeered before flopping onto his back and floating on the water's surface.

"Excuse me?"

"Under the clothes. You've got an actual body right?"

"Yes, Tim. I have a body."

"And a tattoo?" There was no mistaking the hopeful tune in his voice.

"Yes."

"Can I see?"

Crake crossed his arms again. "No."

Tim made an annoyed sound before rolling backwards and doing an underwater somersault. He burst back up from the water's surface, coughing and spluttering water everywhere.

"Ok, I've not done that in ages. I got water up my nose."

"You idiot."

Crake moved aside to let Meatface paddle over. She whined and yelped at Tim's temporary absence under water.

"The body is yours by the way," Crake said, eyes downcast focusing the skag swimming around him.  

"What?"

"Nyx and I, we were based off your physic, not Jack's."

Tim burst out laughing.

"Oh yeah, of course. No way that asshole was ever in shape enough. I remember getting loads of scans done before I boarded the shuttle to Helios. I figured it was just Jack checking out the goods."

Tim patted Meatface as she pawed at the water trying to swim when he abruptly stopped.

"Wait," his eyes shone brightly. "Now you have to show me, it's not like its nothing I haven't seen before."

"No." Crake refused again smirking. Tim groaned, and it was amusing to deny his wishes purely out of spite.

Tim ducked under the water and returned with an oval stone, throwing it with his good arm for the Skag to fetch.

"The fever is gone," he commented idly, hands skimming the surface of the water. "Though this still aches," he tilted his head back to examine the side of his shoulder.

The bite mark was still a deep red, and the bruising from the teeth were green and purple. Thankfully all evidence of infection was gone.

"I should apologise, again. We should never have gone that way," Crake said softly.

Lawrence pulled himself up from the water, so he was eye level.

"Don't fret about it, that was nothing compared to the Veins of Helios. I had a full blown infection then... almost wanted to eat Athena's face off. "

That was true, it had been worse before. Tim was an inexperienced shooter, and he was unable to function, save for shooting anything that proved to be a threat. But that was beside the point, he had willingly put them in danger for his own revenge. At least the discovering of the real Walter was some consolation.

"Just say we're, we both acted like selfish pricks, ok?" Tim splashed a handful of water through Crake’s projection.

"I never said I acted selfishly," He replied cocking his head to the side.

Tim laughed at that, and Crake froze up. Not sure or able to articulate what it was he felt, but it was good to see him smile, and better yet to make him laugh.

Tim returned to checking out the wound, making the odd comment about scarring and how badass he was going to look.

Crake pressed his lips together tried to turn away, he should not stare, but his eyes just proceeded being glued to Tim's shoulder. Lean muscle rolled along with the movement. It wasn't like he had not seen Tim without his shirt, or any clothes for that matter. They were way past that. And yet his mind insisted on showing him imagery that did not exist. As if envisioned it. An image of shirtless Tim away from the river, somewhere more private, alone.

The image was foreign and made Crake pixelate back to the shore. He could not understand why he felt so angry or why his mind kept insisting on showing him things that were not real. A shirtless Tim in combat, or him alone in a room or –

"Crake?" Tim called out.

It had not escaped his attention that Tim was acting overly childish and more inviting than usual, he presumed it was to fill in Nyx's absence or perhaps to make up for 'Handsome Jack' act from days prior.

Meanwhile, Crake felt like he was suffocating. The weird battle fantasies with his shirtless friend kept lingering in his head, and he desperately looked at the shoreline for something to scan to study.

“I’m good.” He breathed out, but he sounded nothing like himself. The voice was tiny and shy.

Tim stared at him for a moment confused, then shrugged and dove under the water. Crake moved as far as the watch would allow and waited for Tim to return to shore. When they started camp, he said his goodbyes and returned to the watch.

His digital home was empty again.

There was no Nyx or Walter, but at least he could rest. Never had he been digistructed for so long over so many days, and Crake could only explain to Tim that he had 'corporeal exhaustion'.

* * *

"You can do this Angel!"

"Come on! Focus now!"

The two women cheered from behind all while well out of the aim of her arm. Angel sought to funnel everything she had into focus and projecting it forward. Though, the moment Tania's melted face deepened in her mind the power became too much. She desperately shook her head, trying to free herself from the images of melted flesh and decay. With the thoughts of Tania vanquished she cried out and dropped her arm. Only able to produce a few light sparks and an excruciating headache.

It was either all pain and power or nothing at all.

"It's not working! And these stupid headaches are getting worse." She kicked at the ground and grabbed her arm with her other hand, holding it to her chest.

"Why don't we-"

"No!" Angel snapped. "I'm done. I just can't do this! I'm better off learning how to shoot."

It was the third training session, and they all ended the same. With her temper spent she marched back to camp. Nyx and Felicity would always be there to excitedly welcome her, embrace her limited successes or many failures.

However this time she did not have the energy to speak to them. Collapsing to the ground, she curled up in her swag, away from all the devices and let sleep take her away.

A voice called to her in her dreams, and it was the first time either.

 _'Let me out_ ,' it said, over and over.

She could not identify the voice, nor tell if it were a man, child, or woman, it was as if the message came to her without a corporeal being to produce the sound.

Like data entered within her mind.

The nightmares were back again, and there was no Nyx or Felicity to offer comfort. Alone, Angel rolled in her swag and kicked her feet restlessly to free herself. The details were leaving her mind like the marks of the tide; gone for now, but sure to return the following evening.

Sitting up she kneaded her hands into the corner of her eyes to remove the sleep. She reached for her echo, only to find it was back on the other side of the camp. It had been at her own insistence that she should sleep alone, far away from any tech and software. She ignored Nyx's pleas in favour of his own safety. If she'd lingered inside his code for any longer, she could have done permanent damage, or worse, wiping away everything that made him who he was.

Even Athena and Janey stayed away.

Athena hadn't needed much convincing the gladiator was resistive to part with her weapons.

Would have Lawrence?

The abrupt memory of the man made her frown. She almost wanted to believe that he too would have left her alone, too afraid to stay beside her. It was easy to wrap him up in negative thoughts, and yet the image of his face so close to hers, urging her to gain control and wake up swam to the forefront of her mind.

He had wanted to stay despite her lack of control and not only that, he had begged her not to leave her side when he laid on her lap in the caravan, torn to pieces and inches from death.

He'd told her he was sorry.

And somehow after all that he still left. Angel told herself it was because of her, everyone left because of her. Jack had been right about one thing.

Her mother.

Her stepmum.

John.

But Lawrence? The evidence stacked up in her favour. She latched onto the hems of her jumper and played with the frayed material. Trying to think back of the details of their parting. She'd always had an excellent memory, like a server, the details were locked away for her to access at her whim.

 _"It's nothing to do with you,"_ that's what he had said, almost pleadingly.

She cringed at the memory. Lawrence had tried to explain...

_"There is more to this than you think if you just let me –”_

And that's when she had cut him off, like a stupid child she yelled at him. Why did he need to go back? If she was not the reason for him to leave then that left...  Jack. Maybe her Dad had truly dug in too deep?

She fiddled with the smooth glass bracelet on her wrist. She's made one for the everyone, save for Lawrence and Crake. With a soft huff, she decided she'd put together one for them too. There was still a few pieces of glass left; some red and some amber perfect for them both.

Getting up she moved back to the other side of the camp where her echo, gear chip, and digistruct device were sitting safely far away. Picking up her echo and digistruct device she called upon the two AI's. Felicity welcomed her with messages of encouragement and well wishes for her day of training while Nyx remained silent. Summoning him to her side, she quickly sought to see him.

"Is something wrong?" she blurted out, hands already coiling in her shirt.

Nyx's gaze was tinged with worry, and he shuffled restlessly on his feet before resting his hands on his hips.

"While you were sleeping I asked Felicity to call Crake..."

Angel worried her lip and before pressing him for the answer she already knew.

"He didn't answer, or Lawrence. It's been over a week..."

"Hmmm." Angel stopped her fidgeting and glanced at the echo now clipped to her belt. She'd been so caught up in her own training, and journey to Sanctuary that it had escaped her to think of Nyx's own future. He gave up his sole family to stay with her.

"Do you want me to try?" She attempted to offer her help with genuine conviction, and yet it fell utterly flat. She did not want to call them; not yet anyway. Unfortunately, Nyx failed to pick up on her hesitation and only nodded enthusiastically.

"Please, can you?"

Angel resigned her resentments by summoning her powers and accessing Crake's, well, Lawrence's frequency. She waited, lips pressed together thoughtfully as she waited for an answer.

There was none.

"Do you think they've already made it to Jack?" Nyx glanced between her and the giant space station in the sky.

"No."

Angel shook her head to assert her own belief.

"No, we would know if they had."

A painfully long silence fell between them, and after kneading at her shirt, she found the courage to ask the question she hadn't dared to before.

"Do you... Regret coming with me? Leaving your brother and HIM?"

She huffed out angrily, annoyed at herself for not yet able to say 'his' name.

Lawrence... or Tim for the short time she called him that.

The man who had taken her away from a prison of wires, eridium, and darkness, gave her freedom, only to leave her open and vulnerable to be brought back into her Dad's clutches.

"No Angel, I don't regret it. I would never go back to that place." He jerked his thumb towards Helios.

Her lips twitched. Nyx insisted he'd never go back to Helios, but if Lawrence and Crake had merely left to explore the world would he have stayed with her?

Probably not.

"How..." Angel paused, she wanted to know and yet a part of her knew better to ask, still that drive, that ill-fated curiosity of hers urged her on. "How bad was it? For Tim, up there?"

Nyx frowned before chewing on his lip. She'd never see him so restless, quiet even.

"It was hell." His voice dropped, and his gaze became distant as if he'd taken himself back into those very memories.

She'd already guessed that. Her imprisonment was 'hell'. The isolation, that vulnerability she felt when Jack left her ate away, forever counting down the minutes until he called again or on those rare times visited. She needed him, needed his approval, his love as a father, and all he offered was fleeting moments to conceal the abuse.

But hadn't Lawrence been happy? Didn't he find some kind of connection with Jack?

"Angel," he bent down and slowly placed a hand on both her shoulders. "Listen to me very carefully... whatever you might _think_ , whatever _feelings_ Tim may have expressed or told you about Jack, just know that that man killed Timothy Lawrence."

There was a cold and harsh note to Nyx's words, like a sharpening blade preparing for battle. His anger was not like Crake's; the red AI wore his on his chest, fired it all who stood in his path. Nyx had shut down while a cold, fierce rage seeped from him.

She couldn't decide which one was worse.

"I didn't even meet the _real_ 'Timothy Lawrence', he was long gone when I came into being."

Angel shivered, she'd heard enough but Nyx did not stop, just like Jack when a rage consumed him so did the verbal outburst.

"Jack suffocated him. Threw up some facade of normality around him, all so he could shape into something – something else – something vile–" Nyx lost his words, and that wild glare was back again. He stood taller and closed in the distance between them. "He literally tortured him with isolation! Shaped him into an animal, an obedient dog. Shoved Eridium into him until he begged him to stop!" Nyx yanked his hands away from him and curled them into fists.  "And when things got really bad, oh Jack had something _real_ special just for that, our older –"

Nyx stopped talking, abruptly kicking at the earth and breathing heavily he turned around, and Angel was he wanted to hurt something.

"You asked me if I would leave with you, of course, I would, but a day hasn't gone by that I don't wish that I found a way to force him to stay. If – when he gets back to Jack, that's it. He's gone, and there will be no bringing him back."

Angel's jaw fell, and the words died in her throat. It was way worse than she thought and she'd pushed him away instead of encouraging him to stay.

"It's ok," Nyx said softly, expression warming now that the moment had passed. "He still has Crake."

In an effort to pull her mind from its slump she digitised the last of the glass and held it up for Nyx to see.

"Well, I was thinking amber for Tim, like his old hair, and red for Crake, obviously, because he's you know, he's red."

"You're making them bracelets too?" Nyx's brow shot up, and a bright smile pulled across his face.  

"Yeah, but I'm going to need more shoelaces."

Nyx snorted.

"Don't bother, I doubt those two would ever wear them..."

"We will see Crake again, I'll make sure of it."

"And Tim?"

She didn't know. But if everything Nyx said about Lawrence was true, that his pull towards Jack was not his own doing then perhaps she should find a way?

Help bring him back. He saved her once, she could save him... well for a second time.

"Whatcha thinking?"

"I'm thinking we should bring them back."

Nyx shone a brilliant blue and beamed.

* * *

As Lawrence finished making camp Crake finally pixelated out of the watch. He greeted Crake yet made no move to stand up as Meatface had made herself comfortable on his lap and was resistant to the idea of him shoving her off.

Crake pulled a weary smile and approached slowly. The last few days must have taken a toll as his absence had been the longest in some time.

"Skag finally off the menu?" Crake greeted the beast by toeing her muzzle with his boot. She sneezed from the static and pawed at him to do it again.

"Yeah," he replied while scratching the beast behind her neck. "Though she'd make a decent meal. She's grown."

"Well, at least Angel will be happy."

Lawrence dropped his gaze and watched the skag kick her back leg; enjoying the attention. He hoped Athena kept her end of the deal and that Angel was as far away from Jack and the Pandora wastelands. She deserved that, more than him or anyone.

"I wonder how Nyx is coping," Crake said thoughtfully.

Lawrence's frown deepened, hearing Crake think aloud was new, and the strangeness was enough to pull him away from thoughts of Angel and the others.

"He's with a vault hunter and a Siren. He will be fine –"

"No, that's... Not what I meant."

Crake looked away and set his gaze on the Rakks high above. They were both avoiding their gazes, and Lawrence sighed knowing it was pointless to play such games. He tried to shuffle closer to his friend, but the skag growled as he made to move.

"Angel will support Nyx, I'm sure of it."

"He's trapped in her echo with no way out. No way to project himself, you have no idea –"

"Janey might have had a digistruct device in the garage? And it can't be for long, right?" Lawrence smiled, albeit it was awkward. He did not precisely know the chances of Nyx gaining a real body. He could only assume Angel would work it out on her end.

There was a strangeness to the conversation he couldn't ignore. Aside from their joint apologies in the river Lawrence never had to reassure Crake before. The guy was made of stone, set in his ways, rarely like this, whatever this was.

"I'll say it again when this shit show is over we can look at getting him a proper body. You too, if you've changed your mind."

Lawrence waited for the reply but received none. He stretched his feet out under the weight of the skag and was pleased with the long crack he heard in his ankles; reliving the days walk out of him.

"I want to get a proper body," Crake finally admitted.

"Oh, that's good. I think?"

Crake hummed, although it sounded more of a growl coming from him.

"You going to share with me why?" He delivered him a sly grin. "Lots of things you can do with a body," Lawrence chuckled, "godammit, I sound like Nyx."

“I can protect you so much better.” The last sentence was a mere listless whisper, and Lawrence's frown deepened.  

“Isn’t a body a bit too human for your taste?”

“It is... Optimal for your safety, Lawrence.” Crake asserted and ended the conversation. When he finally did speak his voice did not sound his own.

"Can you – I mean, can I call him?" Crake's question was presented as if he were unsure of his own request. Not at all like the usual swift commands and assurances showed by the AI.

"Sure."

After many disgruntled growls and yelps from Meatface Lawrence freed himself from the skag's giant paws and unclipped his echo to set it up on a small boulder in front of Crake.

Crake glanced at him, then back to the echo.

"I'll give you some privacy, well, as much as the watch will allow."

Crake's eyes lit up amidst relief before he turned back to the comm, removed the signal block, connected and called Angel's echo.

"Come dogface," Lawrence whistled, and the skag bounded over.

* * *

Angel answered the echo, and she all but screamed with excitement, Felicity was happy too, and the others all joined in. It was truly overwhelming, and Crake had to be quite firm that he wanted to talk to his brother; alone.

"Please... I just – yes, I'll tell you about Tim – OK! I _just_ want to talk to Nyx."

They continued to press him with questions and when Crake lowered his voice and demanded he have some privacy they finally conceded. One by one they said their goodbyes. Though not without asking about Tim and drilling him with multiple questions. He promised he would answer them all after he made contact with Nyx.

Finally, it was just the two of them.

"Sup baby brother," Nyx drawled with mild animosity. "Where have you been!? I've been calling for days, are you two on your one-way ticket to hell in the sky?"

"No." Crake paused, unsure how to explain the past week. "There was a disagreement."

“Trouble in paradise?” Nyx feigned a dramatic yawn causing Crake to hiss in frustration. “What, you figured out he loves that masked-psychopath more than you? Betrayal hurts right?"

“For once would you just shut up!" He leaned closer to the echo and whispered angrily, "I left with Tim because he can’t be alone, he does stupid shit when he is, and you know it.”

He did not wish to admit what had passed, but he also did not want to follow in Tim's footsteps and bury all his troubles in the dark.

“Tim left me in the dust for a cycle. Alone. He was returning to Jack.”

"He did what?!" Nyx fired back. His brother's face screwed up as his jaw dropped. "You're fucking serious aren't you?"

Crake nodded, he did not want to admit it, but Tim did abandon him.

"Where the hell is he?! Let me yell at him."

"I've already done that."

"Nobody hurts my baby brother!"

And there it was. A sly glint in Nyx's eye and the cheeky grin. The seriousness of the conversation would never have lasted. Crake huffed inundated and strived to turn the conversation around.

"Where are you now? Have you reached Ellie's?"

"Nah, we stopped our travels as of yesterday's cycle."

Nyx did not elaborate as to why they had stopped, but Crake resigned it was a good thing. Angel was still on Pandora and not yet on Sanctuary. To follow her there with Tim would have been a risk he'd not want to take.

Tim would find no welcome or comfort, he could not allow that and if they needed to flee off planet, so be it.

"– There's nothing but sand, and sand, and sand," Nyx rambled as Crake fell back into the conversation. His brother paused before his face lit up. "Ok so get this! Angel made it so that I could _feel_ the sand! Can you believe it?! It felt SO GOOD!” Nyx was blubbering now, excitement in his voice. “Like sex! But better!”

“You don’t know what sex feels like,” Crake said dryly, but it was hard to keep a straight face with Nyx and his enthusiasm.

He missed his idiot twin. Crake acknowledged it was nothing but a headache to have him around, but it was worse when he was away.

“I saw 'things' on echo-net,” Nyx objected, and Crake groaned. “You should try it when you're back! Feeling sand that is, not sex, that would be weird."

Crake had nothing to say to that line of absurdity.

"Are you... Are you coming back? Maybe?” He asked quietly, voice uncharacteristically hush and pleading intonation too obvious.

"Yes... I think we are. But you know Lawrence. He's easily convinced to live out the last of his days with a skag in the middle of nowhere."

"Could he be more of an idiot?"

"Only if you were here with him," Crake jeered.

Nyx scoffed and held a hand to his chest feigning offence.

"When did you start making jokes?"

Crake shook his head at his brother's dramatic display.

"Well, call the idiot over," Nyx huffed, "time for me to get some answers."

Crake paused, he did not trust his brother for a moment. He could not assume that said conversations would remain private, or that Nyx would not try to enlighten Tim about Crake's own feelings. Though, his brother was perhaps what was demanded to spur Tim down a different course.

Crake did not dare risk being thrown to the ground again and the thought of being tossed aside cause him to slump, a posture that felt odd and sickening.

He was not weak, and yet his friend had made him feel like that.

"Yo, Red-face? Baby Bro? Hello, you in there?"

Tightly wound fists released at his sides as he blinked slowly and focused on the comm.

"Crake!"

"I'm fine. I'll get Tim," and he abruptly pulled away.

Calling out, Meatface bounded over the nearby boulders before Tim emerged through the scrubs.

"Nice chat?" he asked brightly.

"It's not over." Crake moved aside so that Tim could see the echo and Nyx's presence on the screen.

"Oh, um... Hi Nyx." Tim became smaller and appeared ten years younger, almost shy and hesitant to sit beside him.

Nyx flashed a predatory grin that was all Jack. "Sup, heard you dumped my baby brother?"

Crake concealed a low growl towards his brother's emphasis on both 'baby' and 'dumped'.

"I..." Tim looked away before groaning and falling to the earth beside him. "I messed up."

"Bloody hell," Nyx cursed, "you worry us."

“You worry?” Tim asked slowly.

" _Nah_ , Lawrence, we've just been looking after you for years just for shits and gigs, it's been a thrilling ride." Nyx mocked with a wolfish grin. "Of course we worry you, idiot! I can't believe you lot think I'm the idiot..."

“Even the girl – Angel.” Crake crossed his arms. “You should reach out to her."

Lawrence almost flinched at the name and worried his lip.

“No, I fucked up _way_ too much there. The damage is done. Besides she's got Athena, Felicity, Janey, and even you, Nyx. She sure as hell doesn't need me."

Silence fell from the echo, and for a moment Nyx appeared unsure of himself. Eyes darting over his shoulder before dropping his voice just as Crake had done previously.

"I think she does," Nyx said. "Don't get me wrong we've been doing a fine job without you..."

"But?" Tim leaned closer to the echo. "Did something happen?"

Nyx became tight-lipped and did not elaborate further causing Tim to grow agitated.

"What happened? Is Angel ok?"

There was no mistaking the worry and distress in his voice. Cementing what they all knew to be true. Tim cared, and he cared a lot. Nyx's image flashed away leaving nothing but blue pixels on the screen and soon after Angel's voice softly called out to the echo.

“Tim? Crake?” She sat in front of the screen with Nyx hovering over her shoulder.

MeatFace, hearing her owner’s voice howled and ran up to the comm licking it.

“Fucking beast!” Tim grunted, “fuck off you piece of crap on paws.” Despite the words, he rather gently prodded the animal away.

“Hi,” Tim said stupidly and blinked.

"Um... Hey." Angel waved back, the gesture was slow and hesitant. Her eyes jumping between Crake and Tim. "Um... how are you? Both of you?"

Crake raised a curious brow when Tim burst out laughing.

"I've been better." He said with a deep chuckle. "It's an interesting story... Though Crake knows more than me. I was kinda, ah, out of it."

Angel stared towards Crake, meeting his gaze with questions in her eyes before pulling back to look at Tim.

"Are you with Jack?"

There was no mistaking the tremble in her voice and how her eyes wandered over the screen searching for her father as if he could be standing right behind them. Nyx moved closer towards her, resting a hand on her shoulder. His brother had never been one to fuss over Tim, but it appeared some time alone had improved said protective instincts.

"Are you going back to Jack?" Angel asked again and when Tim could not formulate a reply Crake intervened.

"No. We are not with Jack."

The smile immediately fell from Tim's face, and Crake sensed Tim's pulse quicken.

"Um... Nah, I, we um..." Tim spared an awkward glance towards him before fiddling with the watch. "We didn't go back." He paused, before frowning. "I thought Felicity would have told you?"

"Felicity? She's not mentioned anything," Angel replied.

Tim closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Good, that's um... good to hear."

"Did something happen?" Angel's shyness was hastily shoved aside in favour of her curiosity; almost authoritative in tone. "Why did you not go back to Jack?"

Tim must have picked up a trick from Nyx, as he displayed the same mastery of diversion. He placed his hands under the front limbs of MeatFace and pulled her onto his lap.

"Your pet Skag saw to that. She ran me off the road."

"She what?"

Tim sighed and pulled a shy smile. "She stopped me making a huge mistake. Literally. She stopped me in my tracks."

MeatFace yawned dramatically and kicked her back legs at the earth to position herself further onto Tim's lap.

"So... I um... Didn't go back to Jack. However," Tim waved a hand onto Crake's shoulder. "We did go through hell."

"It's a long story," Crake added, "one better shared in person."

The silence that fell between the two humans was beyond vexatious, almost suffocating so. Never was he the one to fill in silence.

"Angel, we're a little out of sorts at the moment."

Tim flashed him a look startled look, hands turning to fits upon the Skag.

"Would you be able to determine our location from you?"

"Child's play." Angel beamed, and without bothering to ask for more clarity, her arm lit up. Eyes closed she swayed her head slowly as if listening to a slow midnight dance before the light on her arm faded and her eyes opened again.

"Oh!" She sounded with a happy cheer.

The feed became disoriented as she picked up the echo and started shouting at the others and a moment later the feed cut off.

"What the hell happened?" Tim asked picking up the echo and examining it. Crake had no answer for him and merely shrugged.

Tim made a frustrated sound and slumped back onto the palms of his hands unable to move with the skag on his legs. A long silence sank over them, and Crake found himself playing with the watch on his wrist.

"Why did you ask her to find us?" Tim whined.

"I want to see my brother."

"You just did."

"Stop making excuses Lawrence, we are not going to live out here forever, and I won't get this chance again."

Tim huffed and opened his mouth to retort back before Crake cut him off.

"–Wait." He raised a hand in front of Lawrence, urging him to stay to the ground. "Something is coming."

* * *

He heard it before spotting the dust cloud; the engine roaring in the empty Pandora afternoon. Ignoring Crake's outstretched arm, he pushed Meatface off and got onto his feet. Crake dimmed his projection so as not to draw any unwarranted attention and Lawrence digitised his sniper.

"If it's Tania's men, for once, do fucking nothing," he warned, flexing his grip over the weapon.

"I will," Crake growled, almost bitter about the fact and summoned his assault rifle.

"Thank you," Lawrence added. Though he wouldn't put it past the AI to want another round. Crake's lust for violence and revenge was not so easily satisfied.

"Yo, so you can drop your damn weapons you idiots, it's us!" A familiar and way too cheery voice chirped from the Echo comm.

Lawrence fiddled with the device before being able to access the receiver.

"Janey?"

"Almost in the flesh! Bout two mins out from you! What are the freakin chances huh?"

"What?" he spluttered looking wildly between the echo-comm and the horizon. The dust cloud was advancing fast, and at its front was a large ute.

"See ya in a sec Timothy!" And she hung up.

Lawrence took a sharp breath, but it did nothing to relieve the painful twisting feeling in his chest. He dropped his sniper and let it fall to the ground and stepped back into the shrubbery.

"Where are you going?" Crake snapped.

"Why didn't Angel tell us we were so close?!" His hands trembled, and so he shoved them into his pockets.

"She was afraid you would run," Crake grounded.

"I wouldn't, I –"

" _Lawrence_ ," Crake growled and moved towards him. "Come here." The digistruct reached forward and tried to wrap a hand around his arm but only managed to make his hairs stand on end.

"No, I –"

"It's going to be fine." Crake kept his hand in place and encouraged him forward. "Tim, you need this."

The lights on the ute flashed erratically as it pulled up, horn honking before Athena – in the passenger side – swatted her arm at Janey to make her stop. Lawrence shielded his eyes as the dust settled and held his breath.

He had hoped he'd have days before this reunion, that they would get the bike and travel to Ellies on their own terms.

He wasn't prepared.

Not able to flee he dug his trembling hands deeper into his pockets. He wasn't ready to see her, or any of them, facing Crake and Felicity was hard enough.

Confronting himself was just as bad, and Angel would be worst of all.

The driver's door was the first to burst open with Janey landing on her feet she sprinted forward, leaving the others behind in dusty footsteps.

"Tim! You _BLOODY_ idiot! Where the hell is my bike?!"

Multiple fists were slammed into his chest forcing the wind from his lungs. Janey, unaware of his injuries hit a tender spot, and when he cried out, Crake promptly moved at his side and told Janey to back off, albeit a little aggressively.

She almost cried as she landed the last hit.

"You had us worried sick!"

He doubted that but offered her a shy smile. Janey waved for the others to come over. Athena slammed the door shut rather loudly and next Angel landed on the ground from the back of the ute.

When she spotted him her eyes flashed, akin to Jack's when he caught him leaving the apartment out of curfew. Her pace was brisk, and yet it wasn't an outward run, and she even faltered a little when she approached him.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Lawrence took an awkward step forward, and Crake dropped his hand and moved aside.

Her skin had some colour to it, it appeared the Pandora sun had been kind to her. Perhaps she wasn't so naturally pale? And that only years of being behind closed doors had left her like a ghost.

"Hi Crake," she said again and waved.

"Hey," he answered curtly and nodded to the others.

Athena was coming up from behind Angel, eyes sharp and pouty lips pressed thin. Not wanting to test the gladiator's patience he made no move to greet her and turned back to Angel. The moment was fleeting, watching the girl in front of him becoming smaller by the moment. Hands twisting at her jumper and eyes shyly cast downwards, just as she had when they first met.

He wasn't Jack, he wasn't her Dad.

_'I'm not him.'_

That's what he had told her, and at the time it had meant very little, but he could change that now. Ruling that he'd been enough of an asshole to last a dozen lifetimes, he closed the last few steps between.

"I'm, ah... Hi..." he mumbled before clearing his throat. Slowly he pulled a hand from his pocket - still trembling - and rested it on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Lawrence had apologised a lot in his lifetime – mostly to Jack, and all of it was in fear of retaliation – and yet he couldn't recall a time, save for a handful of people, when he genuinely meant the words and sought to repair the damage done.

She nudged his palm off her shoulder so she could squeeze forward and hug him. Her tiny arms wrapped around him, and as a hand moved up his back reaching his wound, he winced and breathed deeply, concealing the pain from her touch.

She didn't squirm away, and so he kept her there, and a feeling so alien, that the name escaped him, flooded over his shoulders telling him to keep her safe.

He should never have left her, never should have chosen Jack, and never should have betrayed her trust.

"I'm sorry too," she mumbled.

Laughed gave a short bark of laughter, "why?"

"I said things that I shouldn't have."

"Oh, kiddo," he gently moved her away so he could gaze down at her, "you weren't in the wrong." Lawrence lamented and studied her face. There were large bags under her eyes, and though she gained weight, she appeared weaker than before.

"Are you ok? Did something happen?"

Angel shook her head slowly, "I'm ok."

But he was not convinced; she may be good at learning secrets, but she was terrible at keeping them. The signs of restless nights and dream-filled sleep were all too familiar to him.

"Where is Nyx?" Crake asked eyes scanning the ute and back onto Angel.

"Oh, right!" She fumbled with a device on her belt, and a moment later the cyan digistruct was standing beside her. Nyx crossed his arms and looked them both up and down slowly, taking his time to earn him that extra climatic effect.

"You two all good?" he cocked a brow and delivered his best Jack grin.

Lawrence softly chuckled and looked down at Angel again, "um, I think so?"

She beamed back, and he took that as a yes.

"Did you behave?" Lawrence asked Nyx.

Nyx didn't get his chance to answer as Crake moved forward and stood inches from his brother's face, nostrils flaring he glared down at the sapphire blue digistruct.

"You left me with that idiot!" Crake jabbed a finger toward Lawrence causing him to scoff at the accusation. "Babysitting him is a two-man job!"

"Hello to you too brother!" Nyx swayed on the balls of his feet, grinning madly. "I see you've REALLY got the hand of that anger of yours. Top notch work, you really know how to put a smile on –"

"Angel!" Crake rasped, "put him back in the damn watch," he marched over to her and Lawrence had forgotten just how tall the badass digistruct was. He towered over Angel, yet Nyx's laughter helped alleviate the heated friction between the two brothers.

"Um..." she inched to the side and eyed Nyx.

"Go on Angel, looks like Crake here needs to let his _feelings_ out."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than that," Crake seethed rolling up his sleeves. "You have _no_ idea what I went through, with him!" Again another finger was jabbed in his direction, and Lawrence moved further away from the enraged AI.

"Woah, it wasn't my idea to go through a Space-Hurps infection!" Lawrence said, all while trying to keep a straight face.

"You went where!?" Both Felicity and Athena finally spoke up.

"Ah, long story."

As Lawrence was halfway through the main bullet points of their misfortune Angel cheered loudly.

"All done!"

For a moment Nyx was gone before the watch flashed and a brilliant blue erupted from his wrist and landed beside him.

"COME HERE!" Crake roared and swiped for his brother. "And what the hell did you do to your face?"

"You don't like?" Nyx smirked and tilted his head to show off the multiple piercings in his ear.

"No," Lawrence jeered, "you look like an idiot."

Nyx pixelated to the far reaches of the watch's limits and out of Crake's swing.

"Red Baby! It's so good to have you back!"

Crake hissed and tried again to reach his brother with another swing, only to miss as Nyx pixelated out of the way laughing.

"Get back here and let me hit you!"

"No hug?"

"Fine Come here."

"hmmm, nah."

Janey abruptly pulled him into a tight bear grip hug, and Athena finally marched over and offered him the same. When they parted Janey grabbed him by the ear and yanked him downwards; schooling him like a child.

"So Tim, where's my bike?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologise for my late replies on comments! I've been SO busy with the new job (which is amazing btw). Hoping you enjoy the update and had a safe and happy new year XXX
> 
> Looking forward to reading all your amazing comments. Which i appreciate SO much.


	43. They're to Blame

Purple, blue, and red; that's what he saw when he slept. 

Eridium, the AI, and blood. 

The same images played in his mind. Drowning in an ocean of Eridium, held under the surface unable to scream he could only blink up at those cold dead eyes above the current. 

It was the same damn dream every time.

When Lawrence eventually opened his eyes a wave of static surged through his head. Bolting upwards he discovered Nyx hovering over him. The sapphire AI had been trying to open his eyelids which only succeeding in frying his brain.

"You were sleep talking again, and your heart rate was going crazy," Nyx said, hovering over him like some damn rain cloud.

"jus, a dream," Lawrence mumbled. 

"Yeah, well you stress my bro when you're like that."

"Fuck off," Lawrence waved lazily.

"Yooooooo, so the girls have gone, get up."

"Wh... What?" he slurred, "gone where?"

"To get the bike, you idiot. Athena and Janey left half an hour ago through the tunnel."

"What?!"

"It's ok." Crake digitised and walked over to his brother's side. "I explained to them where to go and what to avoid. They said they'll be back in a few hours."

"Oh, right." Lawrence stretched and yawned, before blinking blearily. "Wait, where's Angel?"

Nyx jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "By the river, get uppppp. We're too far away, and I want to see the water!"

"Alone?"

"Felicity is with her."

That offered him no consolation. The AI was only as useful as the words she could provide. 

"Ok, ok, ok. I'm getting up."

Lawrence pulled the swag off, stretched again and stood up. He didn't bother putting on his boots. Instead, he rolled up his jeans into tightly coiled cuffs to his calves. The moment he started moving Nyx pixelated ahead as far a the watch would allow. Yelling loudly for him to hurry up. Crake scoffed and shook his head at his brother's antics, and Lawrence yawned for a third and hopefully final time.

"What else did I miss?"

"Well, everyone got a kick out of your snoring," Crake shoved a shoulder against him and jeered.

"Why do I feel like I'll forever be everyone's pinata?"

Crake chuckled, and Lawrence halted; taking a moment to watch the AI. Crake rarely smiled, and laughing was even stranger, though not unwelcome.

"Did you sleep ok?"

"Yeah," Lawrence lied. 

Crake's smile left, and with it, his voice dropped to a serious note.

"Athena made a good point."

"What's that? That I'm hopeless? Useless? No Good nothin–"

"That you  _ may _ still be contagious with the Space-hurps virus."

Lawrence stopped in his tracks.

"You're fucking kidding me?"

"You were last time were you not?"

"Yeah but I've had the vaccination."

Crake shrugged. "That stops you from going insane, doesn't stop you from carrying it."

Lawrence kicked at the earth only to immediately regret it as his toe landed against the uneven ground. He wasted all his damn luck just surviving the place, he should have known it wasn't over.

"let us hope that Athena is wrong."

"What does your scan say?"

"That the virus is still in your system. Though, you are still recovering from  _ that _ ."

Crake fingers lightly grazed over his shoulder just skimming the bite wound. He tried not to flinch from the touch, but it was hard when all he felt was a jolt of static.

"Best to play it safe. No contact with any of the others." Crake said, then paused. "Well anyone human," he added thoughtfully.

"Can't even touch you anyway," he said, waving his hand through Crake's arm.

"Oh, and Angel is safe too. She's vaccinated. As for everyone else, no touching, hugging –"

Lawrence laughed, "Don't think any more hugs are in order. Pretty sure everyone is still ready to launch a fist into my face." He drew a sly smile up at the AI, "You most of all."

"It wouldn't be fair to hit you when you're still recovering."

Lawrence snorted to that.

"Tim," Whenever Crake said his  _ real _ name it always wore a different inflection than 'Lawrence', and always gave him a reason to pause. "You may not be able to fast travel at Ellie's. Not until the virus has left your system."

"Why the hell not?"

"Remember –"

"Oh-my-god, will  _ you _ hurry up!" Nyx screeched from downhill.

Crake huffed out a curse.

"I'll explain later, worry about it when it's upon us."

He could abide by that. Moving onto Sanctuary wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list. 

As they wound through the shrubs and cactuses the splashing from the water's edge could be heard. Passing under the last prickly branch, he found Angel sitting on a large rock several metres from the shore with Meatface swimming circles around her. She wore an oversize hat protecting her from the sun and had removed her layers to expose the tattoos running from her head to her toes. 

The image was surreal in comparison to the pale, nervous mess he'd encountered a month ago. She looked like a normal kid enjoying their summer break.

Before he could call ahead so not to startle her, Nyx pixelated forward. The digistruct exploded next to her, and Lawrence unable to intervene could only stand at the shore and slowly watch the unfortunate outcome unfold. Angel startled by his sudden appearance launched to the side and fell from the rock into the shallows. She didn't even have time to brace herself and landed on her stomach completely submerging herself.

"NYX! DAMMIT!"  Crake snapped. 

Lawrence was at her side before Crake could finish scolding his brother. He placed two hands under her arms and yanked her up onto her feet. Angel came up spluttering and coughing with water dripping from her chin. She wiped her hands down her face and shivered from the cold.

"Dammit, here." Lawrence shrugged off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. The sun was still out, but it didn't take away the bite from the icy water.

"Nyxxxxx," Angel wailed, "please don't do that!"

The blue AI was bursting at the seams with apologies as he hovered over her trying to repair the damage. Angel flinched, and Lawrence assumed it was from the static intensifying with the water. Sighing, he walked back to the shore and Angel followed. 

"It's ok I don't need it. I'll dry out in the sun."

He gave her a weary nod as she passed back the jacket. Crake dragged Nyx away who was still trying to apologise, leaving the two of them to remain in silence with Meatface playing at their feet.

"How's your shoulder?" Angel asked breaking the quiet afternoon air. She moved over to a smooth boulder by the shore and sat down to swing her feet into the water. 

"Sore, but I'll live." He kicked at the ground to unearth a small stone. "Crake acted fast and got me to safety." Picking up the rock and skipped it across the water's surface. Meatface charged after it and submerged herself under the river once again. "Nyx, um also told me you had another power control, um, problem. Are you ok?"

"Is there anything he doesn't share?" 

As she spoke she starting to wring the water from her clothes and hair. Nyx really needed to learn to move more subtly, the poor girl didn't need the image of her Dad jumping at her left, right, and centre. 

"Not really." Lawrence sighed and stretched out his toes again, earning him Meatface's attention. "I got all the gossip, about the training, ah Janey yelling about me, oh and there is some girl in Sanctuary?"

Angel's cheeks turned to the colour of the red stone she sat on.

"It's ok," Lawrence jeered, "it ain't my business. I'll have a word with him about privacy  _ again _ ."

Angel huffed, but the sharp sound held no malice.

"What else you guys get up to while we were gone?"

"Well," she started by crossing her arms. "No one was too happy about you storming off."

He ran a hand through his hair to provide a break from her scrutinising gaze. Those gem eyes of hers were so like Jack's, though he'd never say it aloud.

"Yeah, that's my bad. I, ah, well, didn't really think things through. I mean, I had my reasons."

"And they were?"

The Eridium sickness was a detail and shame to great to part with again. Lying was easy and too natural; he almost believed his own words.

"I thought Jack needed me."

Angel pressed her lips thin and cast her eyes downwards.

"Did he?"

"In a way, yes." He sighed taking residence on the ground below her at the shore. "I called him..."

"What... Did he say?" Angel's voice became quiet and shy, much like how they first met.

"The usual dribble about needing me, about being a team. But... honestly, I think there's some truth to it." Lawrence didn't dare part his stare with the water; it was better not knowing what Angel was thinking. "The Eridium trances. They were getting more intense and more frequent before I was sent to the Bunker. I think they're even worse now. He looked so tired like he was unravelling."

Angel hummed, "I can't believe I never knew. But it explains a lot. Sometimes he was completely unreachable, I'd call for days on end to reach him, and I always thought I'd done something wrong. That he was punishing me with silence and isolation."

_ Oh _ , he knew all about that.

Jack's favourite tactic was to lock him in the apartment, leave him alone until he finally opened the door and when he did, Lawrence would launch himself into his waiting arms. 

He curled his hands into the earth and found another stone, this time he chucked it as hard as he could into the water creating a large splash.

"If you tried hard enough to reach him, you'd probably have ended up talking to me. I took full control when Jack was out of it."

Breathing out to soften his anger he stretched out his toes and let them sit in the water. Meatface was back and eagerly licked at his feet; screwing his face up he gently tried to kick her away.

"She's very fond of you."

"Can't imagine why," he drawled and spared a quick glance up at her.

"Did you try to shoot her? Tim, I can see acid spray marks on her back."

"What? No way. Must have been the Vault Hunters we saw," he lied feigning perfect sincerity. He leaned back and relaxed upon the ground as a coy smile spread across her face. 

"Vault Hunters?"

"Um," he closed his eyes and tried to remember their names, "the blonde commando dude and some redhead girl. They stopped their truck and hung out with her for a bit."

Angel said nothing and yet her expression became unreadable; an uncanny mix of concern and apprehension. 

"I did consider eating her again." He said, prodding Meatface with his bare foot. 

"Please don't."

"Look at her, she's almost twice the size when you got her. She'd feed us for days."

"You were such an asshole when we found her, remember?"

"Oh right."

Lawrence curled his toes into the water at the memory of the heat and flames consuming the old man's cottage. If he hadn't shot the creep, Crake would have been uncontrollable in his violence towards him, and there would have been no erasing those images from Angel's mind. 

"There's something I should tell you, it's about that cottage."

"So we're going to start telling the truth to each other?"

Her voice became uncharacteristically sharp and cold; Felicity influence was showing.

"Yeah... Um, you see, the guy I killed, Crake and I found out  _ why _ he was on a border planet."

He explained to Angel his version of events, how Crake and he found the gruesome and disturbing details of the photographers past. As he neared the end, he concentrated on Meatface as a distraction from his own awkward retelling. It wasn't something he wanted to share with her, he wanted to keep her spared from such horrors, but to lie, to conceal the truth was Jack's tactic and he hoped to be better than that.

If she wanted the truth, he would give it to her, no matter how dark it was.

"That's also, why Crake and I wanted you to rename her," he said while patting Meatface behind the ears earning him a painful jarring noise from the skag. "Figured she needed a new name."

"Well," Angel sighed bitterly, "its kinda stuck now."

Lawrence hummed in agreement and stroked Meatface under one of her 'chins'.

"Is it bad, I still want that man's camera?" Angel whispered as if afraid to be overheard and reprimanded.

Lawrence laughed. "No, Kiddo, I've done  _ way _ worse things than steal a creeps camera."

He gave her a fleeting glance. "Sorry, ah, Nyx said you don't like  _ that _ word, I kinda just -"

"It's ok," she shrugged, "it's not so bad anymore."

"Well if it makes you feel better you can keep sticking with 'asshole'"

"Oh, I will." Angel practically shone from the smile on her face before breaking out into laughter. "Jack would have a fit if he heard me say that."

"Ah, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Those were your final words to him."

"No?!" Angel practically jumped up from the rock, leaning forward she took a huge breath and shook with hysterics. "I don't remember at all! Oh my! What did he say?!"

"Not a whole lot actually." Lawrence laughed alongside her. "He ah, got pretty hung up on it though."

"Hmmm, I wonder if he even mourned me," Angel lamented almost dreamily on the matter. 

"He did. In his own way."

By blaming him and breaking his fucking back. 

"It his own way," her reiterated words were as sour as the look on her face. "Everything was in  _ his _ way."

The silence that fell across them both was peacefully held by the ripples moving against the shore. Though it was only early in the cycle, It would be Pandora's evening soon, meaning hunting would be out of the question (he was still bitter about losing his night scope). Lawrence followed the river up to the cliff face that held the Atlas Facility behind its walls. 

His gear chip was equipped to his belt, sniper safely inside. 

"Sooooo, how about that training?"

* * *

"Oh no, no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What drills was Athena putting you through?"

" _ Drills _ ? I think Nyx may have over embellished said 'training' exercises. I mostly stood around trying to produce a single spark from my arm."

Lawrence crossed his arms, the stare he gave her was unreadable, so much like Jack's.

"...Or... I'd blast apart the entire area," Angel finished, voice growing smaller with every spoken word.

"You used your powers to escape Tania right? How did that happen?" Lawrence's eyes narrowed, the scrutiny in his stare was there. The same eyes like Jack's; all knowing, all seeing. There was no way he knew what happened, he had been with Nyx and too blinded by the pain to see or hear. No one saw what she did apart from Felicity, and her secrets were guarded by the AI. 

"Angel?" He took a step back, abruptly lowering his stature. He did not reach for her the way Nyx or Janey did when concern littered her face; he avoided her. As if worried his very presence would trigger another outburst. 

"I don't want to train any more," she admitted. "I'm done, nothing works, and honestly Athena has no idea what she's doing." She crossed her arms and looked away, cheeks growing red again at the dismal. She should not be so curt, Athena had only tried to help.

"Well, Sanctuary has two Sirens, right? Maybe they could help?"

"One actually. Jack took Lilith."

Lawrence chewed his lip and mumbled, "oh right." 

A wind swept across her shoulders causing her to shudder, though when the sun came back, the shakes did not still. What if the Vault hunters blamed her for Lilith's capture? Surely they did. Her life could easily be offered in exchange for Lilith's and both parties – her Dad and the Vault Hunters – would happily accept such an exchange.

Once again she would be a chess piece in their games for the Vault. 

"What if they wanted too –"

Lawrence had seemingly read her mind, and before she could finish, he shook off his jacket again and wrapped it around her.

"I won't let them hurt you. Not again."

This time she accepted the gesture and kept it upon her. The leather was as worn as his hands, deep creases across the tan material, both from age and wear. Janey had bought him the jacket back in Hollowpoint, as she did with his cat tee which was absent from his outfit. 

"Where is your cat tee?" She asked with cheek in her voice.

"Oh right." He glanced down at his chest observing the cream dirt stained shirt he wore. "It's drying out at camp, I had to wash all the space-hurps gunk off it. But honestly, I think it's bust. It's got teeth marks in it an all."

"Eww," Angel recoiled thinking of the hell they must have gone through. 

"So, about that training."

Lawrence activated his gear-chip to bring up the UI. He ran his hand through the items and landed on an orange tile which Angel recognised as his sniper. He digitised it, and the weapon fell into both his waiting hands.

"I can't teach you how to control your powers, but I can teach you to hunt."

Angel stared at the gun, eyes not moving off the barrel. The last time she had seen that weapon she had set it off onto Tania; burned her face away in the corrosive element and fled. 

"You ok with that?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said, eyes still glued to the weapon in his hands. The signature from Jack remained engraved on the side, she wondered if Lawrence would ever shave it away. 

"This thing is probably a little big for you, but if we set it up nice and low, you should get a handle on it."

"What are we going to hunt?"

"Um," Lawrence's gaze darted to Meatface and then back to her. "We'll see what we can find."

He swung the weapon strap over his shoulder and moved the sniper onto his back. 

"Let me go get my boots, and then we can move up there." He pointed up at the ridge above the river. "So, how good are you at climbing?"

Angel quickly learnt that she was not very good at climbing. Her hands had barely touched anything physical during her imprisonment, and now they had been scorched by acid, tanned from the Pandora sun and worn upon the rock face.

"Come ere, I'll boost you."

Lawrence bent down and cupped his hands together, carefully she made her way over and place a foot onto his hands.

"Ready?"

She hummed in reply and gripped her other hand on his good shoulder.

"Up you go." And he pushed her up towards the highest ledge.

Angel let out a little squeak as she scrambled on the rocks, desperate to get a grip. 

"You got it?" he called from below.

"Yeah," Angel breathed out after finally pulling herself up onto the ledge. "But what about you?"

"I'll manage."

Meatface pawed at his legs as he moved towards the rockface. "Stay here girl, or better yet, go run off and act as bait."

Lawrence re-positioned the sniper over his back and rolled his shoulders before searching for a grip hole. Angel didn't miss how he winced and the pained breathing escaping his chest as he worked his way up. His earlier casual act had done a decent job beguiling her from his injuries. 

Angel dropped to her stomach and lowered her arm for him to reach. He took it, though she doubted he put any weight into it. Using his good arm, he pulled himself to the ledge, by that point he was dripping in sweat and cursing profoundly. 

"Thanks," he rasped and released her hand. "Fuck, too old for this." 

She scoffed lightly. It was still beyond amusing to hear her Dad's voice curse. When he was safely on the ledge, he glanced over his shoulder, paling as he saw the ground below. 

"Lot better at this than I used to be."

"Used to be?"

"Didn't I tell you I was afraid of heights?"

"No," she grinned, "what kind of sniper is afraid of heights?"

"A good one," he chuckled. "If I can shoot while absolutely terrified then I can shoot under any conditions." Lawrence heaved himself up and cracked his shoulders. "Plus close combat wasn't really my thing. That was more Athena's and the other's jam."

"I don't think any combat is really my thing." Angel moved to follow him.

"That's not a bad thing."

"But this is Pandora, shouldn't I learn to fight?"

"Only if you want to," Lawrence said curtly. "I never got a choice."

Her clothes had dried quickly from the sun and breeze, but it didn't stop her shivering. The wind was stronger up there leaving a bitter chill across her face. She was thankful for the jacket.

"Over there," he pointed ahead to a small clearing amongst the shrubs beside the cliff's edge. 

When they reached the spot Lawrence digitised a well worn woven matt and laid it on the ground, he then spent the next few minutes setting the weapon in place, tinkering with the scope and its stand.

"Move it back a little, you're too close to the edge."

"But I can't see below?"

"We don't want to see below, we want to see ahead."

She adjusted the sniper accordingly with his guidance. 

"Ok, load the bullet in like so, and then move that back and latch it down."

"Done," she said feeling uneasy with the weapon pressed to her shoulder. It wasn't like holding the gun Athena had given her, this seemed far more intimate, like the weapon sprouted from her chest becoming an extension of herself.

"Ok, lean into the scope, you see that cactus, the one with the trident at the top? Try to take the top of that clean off."

"Um... ok."

She was mildly relieved she didn't have to shoot at anything living. 

Lawrence digitised a headset for her.

"You can wear mine, my ears are already fucked, but let's not let that happen to yours."

The earmuffs were far too big for her, and she had to ask him to adjust them on her head. As his hands brushed along her scalp, a long-forgotten memory came rushing back. John used to braid her hair for her. It was after her mother had died and he'd taught himself how to do it from echo-vids. 

Lawrence gestured to the scope, and she obliged, leaning forward to find that it was already perfectly aligned to the cactus.

Her fingers hovered over the trigger and when Lawrence gave her the go-ahead she squeezed. A dull thud vibrating through her and the weapon slammed back into her chest, hurting her shoulder. She hastily moved forward and pressed her eye to the scope. The bottom half of the cactus had a large hole taken out of it, as the corrosive round ate away at the rest. 

"Let me adjust it for you."

She moved aside so he could play around with a scope while she picked up the binoculars to watch the cactus fizzle away. 

"Ok, ready to try again?"

It hadn't been so terrible to fire the weapon, and seeing as she had been so close before she was ready to tackle it again. Her stubborn and competitive nature just wouldn't let her quit so easily. 

This time she was to shoot the other branch off the cactus and was eager to take the shot when Lawrence's hand jerked towards her. She had not expected it, and flinched, pulling the trigger and firing the weapon. Her earmuffs were ripped off her head, and two hands grabbed her under the stomach and took her rolling to the ground into the shrubs.

"Law–" she tried to wail at the abrupt and rough landing, but his hand was over her mouth. There was fear on his face, and as he held her close, Angel stilled. He was breathing heavily, and so she hadn't heard it at first, but slowly her ears picked up the sound of a vehicle.

"Is it Janey and Athena?" she whispered.

"No. It's not." And he pulled her closer, shielding her from view. "It's  _ them _ ."

And Angel knew from his voice alone who 'them' was.

Gradually he released her and began to crawl to the cliff edge. She followed despite his protests. He reached out and grabbed the binoculars while she – surprising herself – opted for the sniper.

"What do you want me to do?"

When she received no answer, Angel pulled away from the scope. The creases on his face were drawn in worry, eyes straight ahead, and his hand curled into the earth beside her.

"Lawrence?"

Still, no answer.

"Tim!?"

His hand spasmed, shaking the dirt beside them. What colour had been on his sun cast cheeks was now gone. The whites of his scars were barely visible on the paleness of his arms.

"Tim? That's Tania's Symbol! What do you want me to do?"

Lawrence's trembling fingers slowly reached out and lowered down the position of the sniper.

"Nothing," he whispered through gritted teeth, "do absolutely nothing."

Before she could pull the sniper away from the cliff edge, both digistructs appeared kneeling at their sides.

"Lawrence, it won't be like last time, I promise I can–"

"Crake leave it!" Lawrence snapped, and Angel didn't miss how he spared her a quick glance before glaring at the red AI. "We do not need a repeat of  _ last _ time."

Crake made an angry hissing sound but remained where he was. 

"So we're just gonna let them pass on by?" Nyx said while moving lower to the ground in amongst the shrubs. His blue form was not precisely stealthy in comparison to his brother's red. 

No one gave him an answer.

Angel leaned forward to the scope and searched for the convoy. They were not that far off and had pulled over. Several men and women moved out patrolling around the vehicle, weapons up and aimed in their general direction.

They must have heard her shot.

The symbol was as she remembered, two wolves taking each other out under Elpis. She had suspected it was Pandora's moon before, but now seeing it again she confirmed the mark. Dark streaks on the logo formed the same markings as the crackening. 

The locals of Elpis were not organised in any manner, Dalh had fled the planet long ago, the Lost Legion was wiped out, and she knew every detail of Hyperions operations on the moon. So who on earth were they? She still did not have that answer, and it vexed her every day. 

_ "We’re a Maliwan funded, Atlas trained operative."  _ Those were Tania's own words, and at the time she didn't believe them for a moment. 

But someone had to be funding them, and she said Hyperion and Jack were the enemy. Maliwan did have the means, but they had no influence on Elpis or Pandora.

Which left Dahl.

Angel pulled back from the scope, and when she turned her attention to Lawrence, she found him worse than before. Sweat dripped from his hairline, and his lips trembled before he bit down closing his mouth as he had done when the serum lingered in his system.

"Lawrence, let's go back to camp." Gingerly she wrapped a hand around his arm. "Tim? It's ok."

It was as if her reassurance had dug some part of Jack out of his core. He blinked before glaring down at her.

"I'm fine," he scoffed. 

But unlike with her Dad, she retorted back. 

"Don't lie to me. You are not."

Lawrence jaw trembled before he left out a short breath, eyes shining brightly he turned to face Tania's convoy.

"No, I'm sorry," he whispered, "you're right I'm... Not ok. Just – Just stay still until they're gone," he said voice hoarse with unrestrained fear.

Angel nodded and kept her hand in place. She could feel the scars on his arm under her own acid-wounded fingertips.

Tania had left her mark on both of them. 

They stayed there unmoving and not uttering a word until Tania's men finished their patrol and returned to the truck. Slowly, they made their way across the harsh landscape of the dust; dipping up and down over the hills. Only when they were beyond the horizon did Lawrence relax and let out a long breath.

"Come on," he offered her his hand and helped her up.

It didn't escape her how his hand still spasmed and when she stared he awkwardly shoved it in his pockets as if hiding the fact. With their gear packed up they began to trail back to camp, Lawrence was ahead with Crake at his side.

'Sorry' was the word whispered from the red AI. 

She did not know Crake for needless conversation or reassurance, but there he stood beside Lawrence, hand wrapped around his wrist as he spoke. Lawrence nodded slowly before jeering and kicking his foot through Crake's form. The AI only crossed his arms and growled. 

"See told you," Nyx whispered in her ear, the smugness in his voice was suffocating. "Those two are stupid for each other."

When they got back to camp, Athena and Janey had returned. The mechanic took her time reprimanding Lawrence about the damage to her bike and all he did to defend himself was point at Meatface and blame the skag for causing the crash. It had her in giggles, but the moment would not last.

Athena spoke up, and her tone broke everyone's positive mood.

"Something has come up."

"Angel, dear, you should sit down for this," Felicity said from her echo.

"What happened?" Lawrence rounded on the Vault Hunter and his hand was already above to his holstered weapon. He glanced at Angel, with worry in his eyes and then back to Athena.

Angel did not do as she was asked, and later she wished she had sat down.

"Someone has taken the Guardian Angel satellite. It's all over the echo-network. Hyperion is issuing a statement now –"

"WHAT?!" Angel cried out and ran to Athena to read at her comm, completely ignoring her own. 

Multiple headlines confirmed the story.

_ 'Hyperion reacts to terrorist attack.' _

_ 'Once top-secret satellite now hijacked by unknown assailants' _

_ 'Hyperion insider offers details on Guardian Angel satellite' _

"No, no, no, no," Angel whispered as she held the comm in her shaking hands. Lawrence moved to comfort her, but she pulled away throwing the comm to the ground.

"NO! They can't have!" 

"Angel please –" Felicity called to her, but she shut her out. 

How?! How did they do it? Angel clung to the hems of her shirt and paced back and forth. The whites of her tattoos bloomed to life, and she sent her mind into the echo-comm, taking in every piece of data she could on the incident.

It had to be a hoax. It just had to be, and yet as she dug deeper into the net, she found nothing to provide her with reassurances that it was not.

"They would need the access codes, voice commands, not to mention the dozen firewalls in place! I wrote them myself!"

"Say if someone could, how long would it take to break them down?" Felicity  queried from her echo. 

Angel shrugged and shook her head "I don't know, weeks, months? It should be impossible."

"Hun, it's going to be ok," Janey said softly. 

No, it wasn't. 

And then, Lawrence said something that made rest of the party fall silent. She closed in on him; his expression distant and skin paler than before.

"I did it," he spoke again. "I told Tania how to get into the satellite."

"What?!" Angel tried to keep her voice still but will alone was not enough to stop the panic clawing inside of her. 

"I didn't know... not until now."

"Dammit!" She screeched. 

"Angel, I'm sorry." He knelt towards her, "I... I couldn't stop them – I – I tried, honest to fucking god I tried not to tell them. I didn't even know what the satellite was to you at the time." 

"How could you not!?  _ You’re _ supposed to be Jack!"

He pulled away and narrowed his eyes. He took a slow breath and licked his lips, fumbling his words before looking at her again.

"I wished... I knew, but I didn't –"

"Everything there is to know about me is on that satellite! Do you have any idea what they can do now?!" 

"I'm sorry," he urged, "I couldn't stop her. Everything just spilled out, it was –"

"You don't understand! The Bunker may have been my prison, but that place was my home. Everything I ever did, learned or created was stored up there."

She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath. She could not blame him, and yet it would be so easy, Lawrence was right there, the image of her Dad vulnerable and waiting for every hurtful thing he'd ever done to her to come spilling out in a rage. 

Angel cried in frustration and stamped her foot.

That satellite was her mind, and her home, every thought, feeling and action she performed was channelled through the server at its core. Now it was gone. Though she knew it in her heart that it had been her prison, a means of control, but it didn't take away the bitter feeling of loss. 

"We can fix this, right?" Lawrence asked and looked between her and the others.

From what she learnt on the echo-net Tania and her people had taken the satellite out of Hyperion orbit and moved it into no-man's land. Between Maliwan and Hyperion, and if either party went for it they would be shot out of the sky.

As she paced the camp, Felicity offered her words of comfort but they meant nothing.

She felt violated; her privacy stripped away leaving her cold and exposed. She had journals, private musings, her own creations all of which was stored up there. When Jack had moved her to the Bunker, he had taken it all away. Explaining to her that she needed no distractions, that their work was too important, and so, upon that satellite rested what little childhood she had.

She had one day hoped to gain it back, and now it was gone. Angel huffed and looked away from the evening sky. She knew better than to yell, and yet the anger would not rest. 

"Why didn't you tell me you told them this!?" She rounded on Lawrence. "I could have put up more firewalls, changed the codes, I could have –"

"Enough!" It was Crake who intervened, moving between her and Lawrence. Every part of his demeanour was stiff and cold. "Stop acting like a child. It's done, and blaming him won't achieve anything."

The whites of her tattoos flashed as she moved forward ready to retort back, hands curling into fists at her side. 

"Stop wasting your time by throwing the blame and start working out what you're going to do about it." The AI moved forward meeting her scrutiny with his own hostile gaze. He was so much taller than her, but he was nothing but code that she could delete in a heartbeat. He no longer pose the threat she once perceived.

"Do about it?" Angel recoiled, "I can't do anything! I'm stuck down here! With these stupid headaches! And stupid training sessions, doing nothing!”

"They took something for you, yes? So stop whining and take it back."  Crake towered over her like a general initiating the met. "And if you need help, ask." His voice dropped to a softer note, "We will always be there to help you if you need it."

Slowly she drew her gaze from the AI over to Lawrence. He had not said a word and Angel didn't miss how his hand spasmed before he shoved it in his pockets. 

"Ok," Angel squeaked back. Cheeks growing red and as she cast her gaze downwards now acutely aware that all eyes had been on her. She could not ever recall raising her voice with anger, with Jack everything had been a beg, or cry for help. 

Lawrence looked like he was going to be sick. He held a hand to his stomach and muttered some excuse about going for a walk. As he left camp towards the river Meatface and the AI's followed.

She felt hot, and a sickly shiver ran down her spine. 

"I shouldn't have yelled," she whispered.

A firm hand landed on her shoulder; it was Athena. She skewed her lips and took a moment before speaking.

"Emotions... um... are difficult." She fumbled and cleared her throat, "what I'm saying is, that, um puberty can be –."

"Oh-my-god, babe, good try," Janey laughed before pulling Angel under her arm. "Go talk to the big wet bag of sand, ok?"

She wanted nothing more than to crawl up in her swag and hide. Is this what Jack did? Belittle Lawrence, out him on the spot and throw all the world's problems onto his shoulders.

_ I'm not him _ . She told herself and left camp to find the wayward doppelganger. 

It was a short walk, and the entire time she practised her apology in her head, as well as repeating her own reassurances.

_ I'm not him, I'm not Jack, I won't be like my Dad. _

Lawrence was by the water edge, hands cupped down he splashed it across his face. Crake lingered close, while Nyx was downstream throwing his digital ball for the skag.  One thing she had learnt from being outside of her confinement was that she was not stealthy. She stumbled on a loose rock and scratched herself on the shrubs as she emerged at the shore.

"Um, hi." 

"Hey." Lawrence ran a hand through his hair before shaking it dry and standing up. 

"I'm sorry I pulled a Jack," she mumbled, her eyes stung, and she couldn't stand to look at him. 

"What?" and when she heard Lawrence scoff, even laugh, relief hit her in the chest pushing out the air she held capture.

"You're nothing like Jack."

"But I yelled at you."

"It's called being a teenager."

Angel crossed her arms and scoffed. She had always taken pride that she was able to fool so many into believing she was an adult. It had been her disguise for years as the 'Guardian Angel'. 

Lawrence merely shrugged.

"We all need to let off steam, and honestly, Angel, I think we forget sometimes that you're just a kid. It's not fair that you've never had the chance to act like one."

"So, you're not mad?" 

"No... Just worried. You're right to be angry, and to be stressed, even scared."

"I'm not scared," she lied.

Lawrence didn't correct her, and yet she knew he saw through her lie. 

"You've shown more courage than I've ever seen in Jack or anyone on that damn space bucket." He jerked a thumb up to Helios. "Angel, you're not him in the slightest."

But Lawrence didn't know what she had done to Tania. That vicious act, kicking her enemy when they were down, melting off her face. That was something Handsome Jack would do. 

"I'm sorry I didn't remember. It's all there, and then it isn't. I can't recall what I thought, what I dreamt or said aloud to Tania"

"No," Angel huffed, hands moving onto her hips. "No more apologies from either of us, we're not to blame.  _ They _ are."

Lawrence smiled at that. "Sure thing."

They sat where they had that morning. Lawrence on the ground and her on the boulder beside him. They had little time to dwell on the matter of the satellite and her outburst as Nyx and Crake had just discovered there was fish in the river. Nyx was hovering over the water surface while glowing a soft blue. The fish were attracted to the light and when they moved towards him, Crake lasered them from the water's edge. Both brothers cheered as one by one multiple dead fish floated to the surface.

"Get em!" Nyx cheered.

"The water will be freezing!" Angel protested. The sun was setting fast, and by the time the cycle would be over, Pandora would be in nightfall.

"I'll get it," Lawrence sighed and kicked off his boots and waded into the water. "Bloody hell, how many did you shoot?" 

He was swimming in dead fish, some were still alive and wriggled in his hands causing him to drop them and splash the water. Meatface was already paddling over and trying to devour them on the surface. 

"Looks like nobody's going hungry tonight,” Lawrence said as he finally picked one up.

One by one he brought the fish to the shore and placed them in a pile. He called Janey and explained the situation, it was a tiny bit absurd. The others thought they were off figuring out their problems, while in reality, they were sitting in a pile of dead fish. 

Nyx was still hovering over the water and Crake had his weapon aimed and ready.

"Guys that's enough!" Lawrence called, but they paid him no mind.

She wanted to laugh and enjoy the antics from the brother’s, (she assumed they were carrying on just for their benefits), but her head was throbbing against her skull. Angel knew this feeling. She was going to be in a long night of painful dream filled sleep. It seemed every moment of happiness she had – even if it was just a slither of it – was taken away before it could be enjoyed.

"Are you ok?" He asked and bent down, so he was level with her.

"Just a headache."

"Come on," and he wrapped a hand over her shoulder, "let's get you some rest."

"But Tania? The satellite?"

"Problems that aren't going to go away right now."

“Ok,” she resigned and took his hand as he pulled them up.

"When will this will be all over?" she sighed exasperatedly. 

Angel hadn't expected an answer, but when Lawrence spoke it was through gritted teeth, and a voice colder than anything she had heard,.

  
"When I put  _ her _ in the ground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to find tiny pockets of time to write this fic! and I've kinda got a system thats working. Expect updates at the earliest ever 2 weeks and latest 3. I also apologise again for being terrible with replies! honestly i re-read your comments over and over again and they mean the world to me. So big <3 
> 
> As always thanks guys! and Enjoy the update :D 
> 
> **Next Update:** The gang reach Ellie's.
> 
> I'm always happy to chat on my Tumblr, plus you can see all the WAW Art & Fanart ( **[heavybreathingcatt](http://heavybreathingcatt.tumblr.com/)** ). Thanks to EG who gave some input for this chapter. <3
> 
> ### Glossary:
> 
>  **AI Laws** \- Rules which govern an AI, usually to stop them from committing digital suicide, murdering humanity or trying to become human.  
>  **Atlas Hello** \- A very disturbing torture technique, involving wire. No one ever wants to speak of it again.  
>  **Boturalin** \- A lethal poison which cripples the nervous System.  
>  **Cycle** \- refers to 24 hours. (Pandora day is 94 hours)  
>  **Gear Chip** \- A small server which can digi-store guns and items. Items must be scanned by a gear chip scanner or be part of an existing database. The larger and more complex the item the more space it takes up in the gear chip.  
>  **Gear Chip Scanner** \- A device for scanning items to be stored in the gear chip. Scanning can take anywhere between a few hours to a couple of days depending on the complexity of the items  
>  **Geo-crest** \- Is an old Dahl programming language.  
>  **Hyperphire** \- Is Hyperion’s patented coding language. Created by Angel, originally called Sapphire.  
>  **Phase Strike** \- An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward.  
>  **Phase Shift** \- Angel’s ability, she can send her conscious into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).  
>  **Project Tartarus** \- Handsome Jack's glorified immortality project, through the use of an AI.  
>  **Veritilium** \- A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Burning Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992261) by [DualDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualDreamer/pseuds/DualDreamer)




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